Idiotproof is highly suspect terminology
by sirensoundwave
Summary: The sides of Light and Dark both have terrible ideas yet somehow Dumbledore's is worse; the plans to make a martyr for the greater good and tie up loose ends to insure the Deatheaters' victory unravel spectacularly; a few angry Chaos Mages are yanked onto the mortal plane against their will while several more storm in hellbent on tearing the wizarding world apart. Affinity help em.
1. Of Meddling Old Wizards and Bad Ideas

One fateful All Hallows Eve, Voldemort was vanquished by an infant. In his haste to 'protect' their future savior, Albus left young Potter on the doorstep of less than tolerant muggles and assumed all would go according to plan.

Then a few days later, it's discovered he never made it through the door. The Light had lost the greatest hope of the Wizarding world. The Dark Lord still wishes to guarantee his grand return is unhindered. Years of searching and experimentation from both camps yield what could be the answer to their prayers.

Initiating vaguely worded summonings is questionable at best.

Or

The sides of Light and Dark both have terrible ideas yet somehow Dumbledore's is worse; the plans to make a martyr for the greater good and tie up loose ends to insure the Deatheaters' victory unravel spectacularly; one angry Chaos Mage is yanked onto the mortal plane against their will while another storms in hellbent on tearing the wizarding world apart in search of something precious followed by a slew of concerned 'family'...

And the smartest ones in any room can't talk. Not that they'd bother if they could.

Yes, another plunnie.

#3...2...1...GO!#

"A being of light?" The Deputy Headmistress cast a wary glance at the massive ancient tome her superior waved about gayly.

"Yes Minerva. Think of it, a pure form of magic untouched by darkness. Incorruptible!" Dumbledore was quite pleased with his discovery. "With this ritual, we can harness it's power to return young Potter to us. Into safe hands."

While Fawkes really liked the idea of the young one being returned or at least knowing the child was alright, over the past decade, the phoenix began to doubt 'safe hands' belonged to any in this room. Right now, the leader of the light and his Order stood in the Black Manor's front parlor late in the morning. Laying out the groundwork of an ancient spell to 'return what hath been lost, by grace of the Light".

If he could have, the bird would've face palmed.

First of all, any nitwit knows capital letters are for proper names. That said, this Light was most likely sentient. If asked, politely, it might deign to assist them. However, if Albus thought he was going to force such an entity to bend to his will with crudely drawn squiggles, well then decades of those god awful lemon drops must have rotted his mind instead of his teeth.

"Almost high noon." Mad Eye announced, clicking his pocket watch shut. "We ought begin now Dumbledore."

"Yes, yes quite true. Places round the circle everyone."

What appeared in the center of the design was a small child in the most bizarre reminded Remus of pictures he had seen of Arabic dancers. A thin swath of loosely hanging silk fabric that barely passed as a top. Wide strips of sheer fabric connected by a series of gold disks strung together like a belt covered the legs which were otherwise bare save a 4 gold bangles on one ankle and a string of 7 more pear shaped emeralds on the other. The feet bare but lacking any dirt or other sign of wear. Similar cloth comprised the shawl secured to the ornate bracelets about thin wrists. A gold circlet showed on a lightly tanned forehead centered with a rich pear cut green emerald; a tiny butterfly dangling from it resting askew on the skin. Barrettes and beads of the same precious materials adorned long black hair. Every jewel and piece of cloth some shade of green.

Unquestionably the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. Was this even a boy, muchless Harry? If so...where was that famous scar?

Terrified, the boy (are we sure about that?) curled into a ball right on the floor. Babbling in a tongue that confounded the wizards. Sounding more like the plucking of harp strings and the clink of windchimes the child's rapid fire speech was lost on them. Still any idiot could tell the poor thing was frightened out of their mind.

Then again we're not talking about just any idiots.

Deep green pools looked up at the adults surrounding him on all sides. All wearing strange clothes, talking in some language they didn't understand. The plump red haired woman, a man with massive facial scars and an old one with a lot of white hair all moved closer at the same time.

"Harry my boy, it is good to see you again."

About then, Fawkes decided a fly in the noon day sun would be a wonderful idea.

Seeing the advancing strangers did not intend to back off, the little one drew in a deep breath.

And SHREIKED.

Long and high pitched like a banshee.

Every piece of glass in the dilapidated structure exploded. Even Moody's magical eye cracked. The very foundation began to quake, buckling with threat to collapse.

"Good heavens!" Mrs. Weasley covered her ears and attempted to approach the scared child. "Calm down deary. No will hurt you-"

"Stupefy!" The red stunner struck head on, instantly silencing the noise.

"Moody, was that really necessary?!" Tonks gasped once the kid went limp.

"Aye, unless you were anxious to dig out of the ruins of this shack lass," The Ex Auror rolled his...eye. The wonky blue one wasn't doing anything but lazily listing to one side of the socket. The long crack occasionally sputtering a spark.

If only they had realized the pandora's box they'd opened.

Someone might have taken pity on Voldemort and personally tried to dissuade him from following a very similar summons...

#3...2...1...GO!#

I would love to keep going when I have time but am dubious about my knowledge of the HPverse (90% of what i know came for other fanfics :P).

Let me know whatcha think. Remember this is a plot bunnie so updates are not guaranteed.

Reviews are like hugs. Sirensoundwave out.


	2. You Know What They Say About History

"Remarkable..." Dumbledore marveled over the pretty creature lying on the sofa. Attempts to remove the decadent jewelry had resulted in being painfully zapped, actually just grazing the pieces did. "Such an interesting defense mechanism."

"Interesting?!" Molly bellowed. "Albus, he's out cold and those charmed bobbles won't even let us check him over properly!"

Fawkes, having returned from his impromptu flight (unnoticed to his dismay but not unexpected) sat preening atop a bust of some random Black family member on a high shelf. The upper winds were particularly vicious today knocking a few feathers askew. Once done, he finally got a proper look at the newest addition. Or rather, bothered to feel the child's aura.

Sonnuva bitch!

Heaven help them, they were all so very screwed.

The child lying in a magically induced coma was NOT Harry Potter. Not anymore. Chaos magic rolled off him in great waves the same way a witch or wizard's magic radiated from their core. Couldn't they see this wasn't a young wizard but the child of a god? Stories of such fearsome creatures with awesome powers are well known in the "lesser" magical being community. Gods and goddesses who set the world in motion, then observed. Occasionally intervening when they saw fit.

Fawkes was young by his kind's standards but had interacted with those older than himself. His chosen wizard didn't know everything the phoenix did. One elder female had told him long ago, humans of all kinds lived with full knowledge of the magical world, including the mighty chaos mages. But once the humans began to segregate themselves, from each other and beings thet weren't enough like them, they began to forget the very ones who gave them life and their precious magic. The mundane population kept variations of them alive in their religions but for some reason, the magicals didn't. Creatures, however, never forgot.

The dependence upon wands and other focal instruments is generally accepted as being a curse; punishment for their past trangressions. Something magical Europe would know if they got off of their high horses and actually spoke to other magical humans. Stick waving is generally confined to the old world and repressed portions of former colonies. If only the Ministry knew how worthless a statue of secrecy was abroad...

In short, the ones who raised this boy were going to be furious. If some arrogant prat snatched your child, wouldn't you be? The phoenix really hoped that butterfly didn't mean what he thought it did...

"Nngh..." The boy's eyes shot open. So did his mouth. Wands raised instinctively, spells at the ready. Before the idiots did something they'd regret, Fawkes swooped down to rest on the back of the old sofa.

And sang, hoping to soothe the frightened thing. Why were they so blind to obvious distress?

/Oh! A phoenix! Where am I? Who are these people pretty bird? And who are you?/ The same musical language flowed from the child.

Oh, good. That response was better that expected; he could explain.

/My names is Fawkes and they are wizards my lord. They were searching for a child lost to them years ago. You are what they found. May I ask your name?/

/Mama named me Baraket, so I know I'm not lost./ He huffed. /What in all the affinity made them think that?!/

/I...have no idea./

"Well, Fawkes seems to have pacified him. Anyone know a translation spell?" Smiled Arthur relieved the child wasn't hurt.

"Not a spell but a potion. I must retrieve it from my private stores. Though getting him to swallow it might prove difficult." Severus thought aloud.

"Why didn't you bring it with you?" Tonks rolled her eyes, hair turning bright blue.

"It didn't occur to me that our greatest obstacle would amount to a language barrier Nymphadora." The potions master smirked. Knowing her name agitated her, he vanished with a loud crack. Sure enough, blue switched to firey red. Causing who they knew to be Harry to jump and shout in alarm.

For crying out loud Snape!

/It's alright Lord Bakaret. They're a bit...eccentric but they mean well. He will return with a drink to help you understand them and vice versa. An assist with translation, harmless enough./

/I understand YOU just fine. Can't you do it? I don't want to put strange things in my mouth./ Bakaret's nose wrinkled in distaste. /It could be poison for all I know./

/Sadly, they don't understand phoenix either.I highly doubt they would be stupid enough to hurt you./ The 'on purpose' was left unsaid.

/Hn./

"Maybe Fawkes could get him to agree, seems able to understand the boy and other way round." Moody sounded, well moody. Suddenly being half blind (again) will do that.

Remus, who had been strangely quiet merely nodded. The wolf was giving him mixed signals. On one hand, it wanted to protect and comfort young Harry. Cater to his every whim. On the other, the beast acted as if the child would kill him them a look. Deep down, he knew this was a bad idea but hadn't been able to dissuade his old teacher from the ritual. He really wished he tried harder. And that Minerva hadn't been called back to the school, he was better with children...

#3...2...1...Go!#

Well, Snape had been back for 30 minutes. The staring contest with their guest lasted for fifteen so far.

The first fifteen consisted of Fawkes trying to convey to the wizards that Lord Bakaret had no problem taking to potion.

If Snape drank it first.

Their brilliant solution consisted of guesturing and speaking slowly, as if he were dafted.

Hence the standoff.

Argh!

Finally, the exasperated professor downed a dose. Then immediately began saying the wrong things to get a child of any kind to cooperate.

"Listen here Potter. We did not go through all this trouble to have you be ungrateful for our efforts. The potion is harmless, drink it and we all can move on." Remus buried his face in his hands in the fire bird's place. The man was still speaking his native tongue, but his words now made sense to the boy who raised a brow at the demand.

/First of all, my name is Bakaret mortal, how dare you speak to me like that. I don't know or care who this Potter person is. Second, what have I to be grateful for? Being kidnapped? When my family realizes I am missing, you all will be sorry. Third, why did it just now occur to you to drink the potion yourself?/

"You knew what we were asking you?!" Outraged, Snape threw his arms up. The outburst shocked the others too.

/Yes./ Bakaret leveled a flat stare. /Seeing as I don't know you people, your first step should have been what you just did. To talk to me instead of moaning and flailing at me like I'm special. I assume you're all adults./

Between the amused chortling noise made by his familiar, the glowering from his potions professor and the agitated posture of Harry, Dumbledore began to wonder just what this would all lead to.

And if it was a good thing.

...

Then seriously doubting it was.

#3...2...1...Go!#

Fawkes and Bakaret are just lil buckets of sass aren't they? So ends the teaser. The real story is still up in the air though, but hope you enjoyed this. I was going to end it with Moldyshorts getting his ass whooped but couldn't decide if the dark mage he summoned should be Gabriel, Sylphine's twin and Bakaret's uncle or Castor (Klarion the Witchboy), her husband and his father. One would maim first, question later. The other would torture the man into insanity. Both just as anxious to calm a surely raging storm goddess looking for her son.

FYI, Bakaret is Hebrew for emerald.

Reviews are like hugs! Sirensoundwave out.


	3. Suprise, Suprise Yet Another Bad Idea

Heya! Here's more of Bakaret being Bakaret as he pays zero attention to the Order of the Flaming Chicken in favor of thinking about his situation. You might notice something about the new names as you read.

*1...2...3...GO!*

The old goat had grown boring quickly. Yammering on and on about prophecies,trying to convince him that his name was Harry Potter and some guy named Moldyshorts and of it pointless drivel. These people seemed to highly respect this fruitcake but the young mage had no idea why. Maybe because of his old age he'd earned reverence, many cultures favored the guy who managed to live long enough to get grey hairs. Still, they usually got knocked down a peg or two once it was clear they weren't all there upstairs.

For one, prophecies were just ways to get gullible, weak minded people to do what you wanted. They violate the law of free will. His grandmothers had taught him very early that no outcome is set in stone, only ones that are far more likely than others. The instant one of these chintzy predictions is made, the actions of those involved tend to cause it to come true regardless of their intentions. A really crap trick of psychology.

Second, his mama named him Bakaret, end if discussion. How dare they imply such a boring name as Harry Potter. "You are the jewel I treasure above all others my emerald child." She would say to him every day without fail.

Moldyshorts or was it Voldemort? Both names were ludicrous but since they all seemed scared to say it, he wasn't sure which to laugh at. So he started referring to the man as Wizard Hitler. Apparently they were all stunned by how beautiful Bakaret was, thinking him female (apparently "no self respecting wizard" wore his hair so long and only whores dressed this way) but what really enamored them was the lack of a scar he supposedly got from whatshisface trying to off him as a baby. A scar, mind you, they insisted proved he was who they said. So to prove it, they tested his blood.

Which brought to mind just what else had they done after kidnapping and rendering him unconscious?

The results seemed to mollify and mortify them simultaneously. Apparently when mixed with a weird smelling brew and dripped onto parchment, a clear web of one's lineage appeared. THe raven haired child laughed at the pitifully tiny sheet they were attempting to map his out on. He smirked when the potion reached the end of the paper, caused it to spark like struck flint then expanded three fold. As more writing appeared, their eyes grew larger. The child was sure they'd fall out of their heads at this rate.

On it was a long list of people with interesting name connected branch style with solid black lines ending with two fairly normal ones, Lily nee Evans and James Potter. Each was blood red indicating the person was no longer living. A few living names in black shot off from Lily's though. Directly below that is what made the robed ones lose their shit. Below the last red pair, the line was grey, almost too faint to see. The name it connected to, Harry Potter, had a black line drawn through it. Written over it, Bakaret in shimmering gold letters. A gold line situated his name under another familiar (to him) pair: Sylphine and Castor, also golden. From here the parchment grew.

"Dear Merlin!" Mrs Weasely exclaimed, clutching her husband's hand for dear life as another group of names appeared including his cousin Xaphia. She began shouting and pointing at the struck out name below it but he was too far away to tell what it said. The greasy old bat raised a brow at another cluster of names including another cousin, Manestien. The tangle continued to include more of his family, surprising the wizards with one last struck out name under Akik's.

"Albus, these children...they all vanished! Their letters returned undeliverable!" McGonagall gasped in horror.

"These beings in gold burned down my father's house and stole my child!" Molly howled. "Stole little Harry and these other two!"

"No one stole me woman." Bakaret made his presence known in the doorway. One hand on his hip, the other resting on the frame. A frown marred his lovely face. "I was left in a basket in freezing weather one night. Mama found me and took me home like anyone with a brain would."

"I suppose you have an explanation for why my godson was taken then?" Snape glowered. "Their son and this last girl too?

Green eyes squinted at the paper before shrugging. Playing with some of the gold beads in his long hair he started to explain.

"No one was taken. Uncle came across a man about to kill his son. Something about not wanting his child to be a lapdog to a madman. He offered to raise and protect the child with his husband. Auntie found Xaphia in the ruins of a building then showed him to her husbands. Akik was crying and hurt in a car with two dead people when my other Auntie came along. Our family saved us. If that's how you treat kids here, no wonder they didn't make us stay."

That shut them all the hell up.

*1...2...3...GO!*

What.

The.

Ever-loving.

FUCK?!

The moon, full and bright, hung over head. Before him lay the lifeless body of a child. A plump boy no older than 12 or so. Blood from his slit throat fanned around him like a morbid aura.

He felt as though he'd been sucked through a razor lined straw. None of the blood near him was his but his strength seemed to be leaching out through his pores. Something was capping his power. He was probably as weak as a mortal magic user! Looking down, he raised a brow at the manacles adorning his wrists. Taking stock of where he was, his left eye twitched. But not enough to be noticed by his...audience. He refused to show them that he was about to pass out either.

/Wrought iron fortified with blood runes. They think I'm a fairy albeit a dark one. That's...insulting. Once I get my bearings straight and my strength recovers, this isn't going to hold me for long. How do you summon something with no real clue what you're unleashing?/ Smiling internally, the mage felt a familiar aura somewhere in this dimension. Little Bakaret was here as well...good news/bad news deal.

Good news because when his aura literally went 'poof' in Everlie, Sylphine went the hell off. Her precious child had been snatched right in front of her. From his own bed no less. Gone was the sweet, bubbly and wise Light Mage. In her place stood a fire breathing, terrifying (and terrified) mother intent on rampaging through the multiverse until her baby was back in her arms. To review, this place was about to become the Tokyo to her Mamazilla.

He pitied them not.

Bad news for the above reason as well. This place, a mere shadow reality, radiated the same power Bakaret had as a baby. This had to be where she and a few other mages found him and their children. So this must be the result of an attempt to retrieve him not a random happenstance. If these people were negligent enough to leave him on a doorstep on a cold autumn night, there's no telling what they could be planning to do to him now. Especially once they realized his core was no longer like theirs but one of pure chaos magic. If the willingness to murder a child for the power to summon him was anything to do by, their reaction would be less than favorable.

/Well, this is interesting to say the least. Perhaps I should resurrect the dead kid, give Bakaret a sibling-/

"Welcome to this world Agent of Chaos. I, Lord Voldemort have summoned you be a part of my army ushering in a glorious age new age." One of the dozen or so robed figures suddenly announced. As the hood fell away, it revealed a greyish skinned man with a flat face. No nose to speak of, only vertical slits where nostrils would be if a nose were present. "May I have the name of my newest servant?"

/Really snakeface? You have no idea who I am but yanked me here anyway?!/ he scoffed. /And you expect me to be your new lap dog. Delusions of grandeur do a number on one's sanity./

"The name's Klarion, Lord of Chaos to you mortal." He smiled, flexing his hand a bit to show off black talons. Allowing his eyes to flare red and enjoying the fear wafting off the man's subordinates. A shadow world such as this one might know his true name, no need to spoil the surprise yet. "And just what have you in mind?" A wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

*1...2...3...GO!*

Bakaret is Hebrew for Emerald

Manestien is Norse for Moonstone

Xaphia is Vietnamese for Sapphire

Akik is Turkish for Agate

Dun dun dun. I've said before this is going to be a drabble thingie. It's just too much fun to completely end just yet. Their names relate to both the child and what mage took them in. I'm sure all you Potter fans can figure out the obvious part of that so stay tuned for the other part. At some point.

Reviews are like hugs! Sirensoundwave out!


	4. Holy Frak! They're Multiplying!

A bit short but here's part the fourth. Enjoy!

*IHST*

The moment the shop bell chimed, the old wand maker knew times were changing.

His business success was based upon a society being too far up their own asses to notice that what he supplied was a handicap at best and a terrible burden at worst. And for all his eccentricities the man knew it. The current Ollivander of Ollivander's Wands belonged to a long line of men and women who hoped for the best and expected the worst. His father before him explained the nature of their trade to him when he'd been just a child.

"_Son, you'll eventually be passed a sacred duty."_

"_Father I hardly think selling wands is sacred-"_

"_Bite your tongue boy and listen well." Olivander Sr. thwacked his son on the head with a rolled up parchment. "Now then we have always made wands, since our family line began. But do you know why?"_

_"Uh..."_

_"I swear boy. Ollivander's are wandmakers by tradition. A tradition handed down through the ages but a duty bestowed upon us by the Great Ones of Old. One many clans who remember the ancient ways. Before the time wands were used."_

_"B-before? But father our people have always used wands."_

_"You are finally of age to know the depths of the wizarding world's transgressions."_

Oh yes, change was in the air. The cause of such a feeling? And by default his growing migraine?

A very exotically clad young...man(?) and the current Potions Master of Hogwarts. Well the almost naked child was only a small portion of the issue. Most of it rested on the shoulders of Severus Snape.

"Mr. Olivander, if you do not currently have a wand in stock, we will gladly wait for one to be fashioned." The dour looking man began.

"Yes well you'll be waiting until the day the sun turns pink lad." The wandmaker sighed. "It's not a question of making young Lord Bakaret-"

"Potter. This is Lord Harry Potter if anything sir." The sir added on as an afterthought. A frustrated afterthought. "Though too young to be a proper scion of his house."

"..." Breathe in, breathe out. "Young Lord Bakaret a wand. The issue lies in the fact that any wizarding wand he attempts to use will either merely fail or be torn asunder. His magic is...odd." The elderly man motioned to the pile of splinters, ash and a like at the child's bare feet.

"Odd how? He obviously possess a magical core if that god awful shriek and the ability to get any type of reaction is any indication. Surely it can be tamed with a proper wand."

"Professor, a wizarding wand is not compatible with his power. He isn't a squib but the magic he possesses is...chaotic to say the least. Before me stands is a young Lord of Chaos. Not a wizard ."

"Excuse me? Would you gentleman mind terribly not speaking of me as if I am not in the room?" A flat voice spoke, drawing their attention. The subject of discussion stood there with his hands on his hips, glaring.

"Well perhaps you know why your core is as odd as it is. The sooner that mystery is solved the sooner you can be on your way to a proper education." Snape drawled.

"Well, I distinctly remember telling you all that I am NOT a wizard as Mr. Olivander also confirmed. I'm not even HUMAN. From what I found in that musty old library, I would be considered a magical creature. Whatever you dopes did to drag me here has muted my powers and I think the adverse reaction to handling these power sucking twigs would have been much worse otherwise." He turned to inspect a dusty shelf before turning back to them. "I am a Chaos Mage, just as my mother and father are. If you'd bothered to listen to me, I told you this was probably a waste of time. I also showed you what my conduit is but you just stared at me."

"You showed the headmaster a pair of oversized gold keys boy."

"Well, we don't exactly choose what it will be. It's a weapon or set of weapons born of our souls. My mother's is a folding fan. My father's a manacle and chain. Manstein, my cousin who's name you freaked out over, has his rings. Akik has her feathers. Xaphia, his yo-yos."

"How formidable. If being fanned and tickled to death or children's toys were a fear of mine." Snape snorted.

"Underestimating a mage based on their conduit is a terrible idea at best and a death wish at worst." Bakaret returned the glare. "Sir, I apologize for this. My guide and his employer have been rather dense about this whole thing. They don't realize my stay here will not be permanent." With that he stormed back outside. An exasperated Potions Master behind him.

A loud thunk sounded as a wrinkled forehead smacked the counter once he was alone.

"Too true, Great One. But will we survive the rescue party?" He whined into well worn wood. "Dumbledore you old goat. What have you done?!"

*IHST*

Far away that same night, another encounter wasn't going quite as expected either.

The child smelled strange to begin with. This should have been clue number one. Dressed in green leather accented with silver and black swirling patterns; a fine silver cape fluttering behind him. Long white hair swept and braided to the left side of his head flowed down his front in one great pleat. Eyes the color of mercury reflecting the full moon's light. Something projecting a similar glow under his bangs. Couldn't have been much more than starting age for that wizard school. Quite suspicious they'd let a pup stray so far into dangerous territory. Yet instead of looking absolutely terrified at being surrounded by a transformed werewolf pack, he looked...annoyed.

That should have been the big clue.

He spoke, though the beasts in charge of them this night couldn't register the words. All they could comprehend was fresh meat stood a few feet away ripe for the picking. So their alpha pounced, claiming his right to the kill and first in the feeding que.

This is how Fenrir Greyback found himself face down on the forest floor with a mouth full of dirt. Sporting a thick solid silver ring about his neck burning like fire. A small black leather stiletto grinding into the back of his head. Pained howls told him his pack also got new collars. The child spoke again, this time his cultured voice clearly understood.

"Bad dog. Someone needs better training."

*IHST*

Tada. More of Bakaret being a smart ass, another resident of the HP verse reveals they are very much aware of how utterly fucked their world is, Snape still being Snape and a new player appears. Three guesses who it is and the first two don't count n_n

FYI this and Hands Off are occurring concurrently and will at some point bleed together.

TTFN!

Reviews are like hugs! Sirensoundwave out.


	5. Worst Laid Plans

Worst Laid Plans...

Or Not Quite 30 Stories High But Breathing Fire Just The Same

Sup. This is gonna be a bit...odd. I have decided to meld ALL my Reality of Chaos fics together. But this will be most evident in the stories Facade, Hands Off, Megalomaniac and Idiotproof. Whazzhat mean? Well right now only Idiotproof has a definite plot. The other three are kinda side story drabble and two shot dumps. You guys already know Hands Off and Idiotproof take place at the same time. Then I realized it could be fun (or a trainwreck...) to add in my other mages that as they relate to the current clusterfuck in the Harry Potter reality. Especially in explaining how this shit happened in the first place. So these chapters will be called Intersections #? And posted in all 4.

Again anything you need to know about the fandoms used will be explained in chapter or in endnotes. All I'm doing is turning up the crack level. There's no spoilers for those fics here either; just the assumption every Chaos knows who and what they are. Also random cameos from other fandoms will appear from time to time.

Here we go!

*I#1*

"I should just like to say you're all dead men walking." Green eyes rolled.

"That's big talk coming from you zombie 't tell me you've been domesticated." A brunette munched on a Twizzler. "Where's the wild n crazy little bastard we know and love?"

"Oh come on. You're just as bored as we are." A blonde chuckled. "And about as powerful. Just without as many...restrictions on you."

"But he isn't as brain dead as you lot." Another blonde glared from beside green eyes. "I don't know the Lady Sun very well or her match. But the Lord Moon isn't the type to see fucking with his family as a harmless prank. Whatever the 'positives'."

"I'm inclined to agree with them. They maybe the youngest of us but Peter and Felix seem infinitely wiser than their elders at the moment." A smooth voice drawled. A black brow above crimson eyes quirked in derision.

"Hush Oidiche." The only female in the room scoffed. "Do you not see the benefits as well as the entertainment value here?"

"Yeah, listen to sexy in green." The candy eater giggled earning a glare from her.

"Circumstances might have made us different than most second tier mages but our creator can wink us out of existence just the same. We are not risking our lives or Henry's for the sake of amusement. Later losers." With a swirl of shadow, the young pair vanished.

"Hmph. You gonna be a party pooper too Big O?" Another Twizzler was shoved in the brunette's mouth.

"I have no intention of aiding or hindering this endeavor Gabriel. Merely observe. And yes Titania I do understand the possible benefits. However the risk isn't quite as worthwhile as you may think in my opinion." Red eyes lazily surveyed his companions. "I am quite familiar with Sylphine, Jasmine, Castor, Pollux and Artemis at least. And how terrifying they can be when properly motivated. So, when asked, I will give them what information I have."

"You're scared of two second tier mages?" The remaining blonde asked, leaning in curiously. "Enough so to play tattle tale?"

"Of course not Okuninushi. I have no shame in admitting my wariness lies in several enraged parents whose combined might would be more than enough to scatter me to the ether."

"The cost of allowing this shadow world to further fragment could cause a tear. One that cannot be closed thus jeopardizing us all. This so call 'Dark Lord' will be the end of his reality and others if we leave things be. You cannot deny this course of action is the best way to establish ones powerful enough to prevent that." Titania spoke again.

"There you go again. It's a means to an end but hardly the best one. As I said count me out. I am far more concerned with what THEY will do to me than you all. Good day Lady and Gentlemen."

With a flash of pink, 4 became 3. Three meddling chaos mages. None really with a dark affinity in the traditional sense (as Peter and Felix had) yet known in their realities as masters of trickery and subterfuge. Old hands at getting what they wanted, when they wanted and screwing with people in the process as an entertaining bonus. It just so happens this time their scheme was mutually beneficial to them and their, um, targets.

There's no way this could blow up in their faces.

*I#1*

Gathered together after many mysterious resurrections and other developments, the main powers of Seireitei, Hueco Mundo and the Ningenkai sat down to finally get some straight answers from the revealed Soul King.

"Sylphine, what a pleasant surprise!" The 'humble' shopkeeper said out of the blue. A white paper fan snapped open to try and hide it's owner's nervousness.

Everyone sort of looked at each other after the declaration. Confused until...

"ELECTRIC ZEPHYR!"

The man formerly known as Urahara Kisuke went flying out of the soutaichou's meeting room propelled by a wave of electricity via a new hole in the wall. In the destruction's wake stood a girl Rukia's height. Light brown skin, long black box braids with a single gold butterfly bead on each end. Smoldering aureate eyes glowing. She was huffing raggedly with unabashed anger. After a calming breath, she stepped through the hole after him with the heads of the 13 as well as several guests gaping and on high alert. Well most of them. Several present knew this stranger very well; also that getting in her way might not be so swift at the moment..

And Okuninushi probably deserved whatever she dished out. One of his siblings didn't so much care if he did as was thrilled it was happening.

"Maa, maa, calm down everyone. That's Sylphy-chan! Ain't she a doll? I get the feelin it best not to draw her attention away from her current focus though." Gin Ichimaru, now revealed as Izanagimi waved it off.

"WHERE IS MY SON?!" She screeched.

"Yep. Introductions should prolly wait a bit." He smiled with genuine cheer.

"...that girl blind sided Urahara." Soutaichou swallowed uneasily. "None of us sensed her until she struck." /Just how powerful are these beings?!/

Outside their reality's resident trickster picked himself up in time to narrowly avoid the sharp edge of a tessen swipe. He parried it's twin with Benihime. Electricity sparking with contact.

"Picture this. One minute, I'm singing to my sweet little jewel as he lay down to sleep. The next he vanishes not of his own volition. Across our bond I feel my match do the same. Cas is a big boy, not worried. My baby is my first concern."

"Always with that sparkling personality Now why would I know where darling little Bakaret is?" With a push, he forced her back aways.

"Wrong answer dipshit!" She charged, both tessen sparking like an overloading transformer.

"Geh! Shibari, Benihime!" With a hasty slash of his zanpakuto, a net of black and red energy dropped from nowhere above her.

"Reversal of Fortune!" Sylphine called. As the net came down, the blonde found himself switching places with her and ensnared in his own attack. He forgot she could do that!

"Shit!" Dispelling it only gave her an opening to grab his neck and begin shaking him like a ragdoll. Affinity was she stronger than she looked...

"You're the portal expert. And Oidiche is too smart to lie to me, this was YOUR brainchild. So again, WHERE IS MY SON FUCKER?!"

"I (gack!) don't know what (gack!) you're (gack!) talking about!"

Back with the others...

"Is he serious right now?" Kira asked no one in particular. "He does know she could end him right? He's turning purple..."

"Oh, don't worry Kannon-koi. She needs answers first an ya know dead men tell no tales. Okun-chan just happens ta have once again outsmarted his-self." Gin grinned. Those who'd moved to attack (or rescue) found themselves held in place by an invisible force.

"Yeah. Outsmarted. That's what we'll call it." Ichigo snorted. "Sylphine is gonna pop that dumbass's head like a zit if he keeps it up."

"Who is that?" Rukia asked. She really didn't want to get closer to her friend. Why? It meant getting closer to Aizen, whose lap the orangette sat on. He'd been scary enough as a deluded megalomaniac with a god complex. The revelation of him being Enma, actual god of hell and married to his BROTHER Ichigo (or rather Kishi-Mojin) dialed up the creep factor.

Black clawed nails gingerly trailing along Ichigo's white clothed thigh; their owner unconcerned with the uneasy fleeting looks thrown his way. Right now he'd rather be ripping said cloth from his lover's body. Hell, he'd settle for just hiking up Kishi-Mojin's kimono so long as it meant making him scream his name in the throes of passion imstead of sitting here with people he doesn't give a shit about. Bend him over the nearest table and give these stuffy brats a show. As loathe as Kishi might be to admit it the fertility god did fancy exhibitionism...

For affinity sake! Even their father's first action had been to thoroughly debauch his favorite son before revealing anything! You would have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to notice the blonde's flushed and sweaty face; or that Kannon could barely stand much less walk on trembling legs when he did appear. Where else would he inherit such a um, healthy libido?

So unfair...

Well since big brother decided to cheat the test, he supposed he could settle for enjoying the tiny mage strangling him instead.

"That would be our cousin Sylphine. The Lady Sun, Wind Witch, Goddess of the Storm and a few other titles. Though falling quite short of thirty stories, she breathes fire in a no less terrifying manner when angered. Just call Okuninushi-niisama Tokyo." For the second time since their reawakening Fugen Bosatsu (Ulquiorra) made a joke. Now it was officially weirder. Not just because the emo-spada did so but cuz he did it with a deadpan voice.

Across the room Shinji started laughing hysterically. So much so that he wound up on the floor clutching his sides. The captains, lieutenants and espada just blinking at him. This was awkward enough. Then a few of his fellow Visored chuckled too. Ishida face palmed. Sado tried to pretend he hadn't heard but a small smile graced his lips.

"Hah! Dare ya ta say that to er face mopey." Kenpachi boomed heartily. "She'll rip yer balls off."

"What is so damn funny?! She's going to kill him and you're all laughing!" Youroichi frowned, worried for her friend. So what of he lied to her-

"It's a pop culture reference. Only those living in the human world for more than a few years got the joke. Sylphine is usually so sweet and bubbly but Bakaret is her world. She's scared enough for his sake to really maim nii-san but he won't die." Kisshōten (Orihime) assured confidently. The sound of an agonized gurgling not two seconds later caused her to flinch, some of that confidence to wane. "Probably...maybe."

Stark (Baku) simply snored through the whole ordeal. Despite the ruckus...and tiny Hoshikawa (Lilynette) kicking his sides.

"I (gack) yield!" A feeble gasp escaped his mouth. With barely any air in his lungs and black spots dancing before his eyes, the blonde realized the jig was up. Instantly she dropped him like a stone.

"Talk."

"He's back where he belongs, his native reality." Rubbing his neck Urahara blinked dumbly. "Hold on, Castor is missing too?"

"Already figured that much out and Cas can take care of himself. The problem is I can't open a gateway there. How do I get my son back?"

"You don't." Cue the air around them charging with static again. "Wait! I mean you don't the meanwhile he's perfectly safe. Thanks your loving care he is strong enough to act as a true agent of chaos there and stop it from causing a domino effect of destruction. But what do you mean Castor is missing? Only the natives...of...oops."

"Oops? OOPS?!"

"Um we may have made a boo boo? A slight miscalculation." He started to scoot away. "Turns out hat reality isn't quite as affinity deaf as we thought..."

He expected to be violently thrashed again. To have a dainty foot crush his nose or a small fist to bear down on his skull. Not have a gentle hand tilt his head up or a sweet voice speak calmly with an innocent smile. The hard as ice eyes weren't really a surprise. Nor the crushing grip on his chin.

"As in the royal 'we'...or other heads I need to knock in?"

*I#1*

Far removed from that circus, two eternal guardians were having coffee at a quaint Belgian sidewalk cafe. A bit of a ritual for them to meet this way; leaving doppelgangers at their posts while they enjoyed some downtime. Discussing matters transcending time and space. And how to avoid them.

"Pity something blocked such a plot from my all seeing eye." A man smartly dressed in a gold colored business suit spoke. After a sip of his latte he adjusted expensive sunshades which hid his pure white eyes well.

"Indeed. What a shame my staff cannot access those hidden events either." The green haired woman nodded brushing a few crumbs from her purple skirt. Not one person noticing her maroon eyes.

After a beat the dark skinned man set his mug down, steepled his hands and sat back in his chair.

"Plausible deniability is a wonderful thing isn't it Lady Pluto?"

"Oh yes Lord Heimdall." She held up a plate of gingerbread men. "You must try these cookies. The recipe's been in this family for centuries. Each generation is absolutely splendid at replicating it's perfection."

*I#1*

First, the joke Fugen made compares Sylphine's assault on Okuninushi to Godzilla destroying Tokyo by using the lyrics of the American cartoon from the 60's.

/Up from the depths

Thirty stories high

Breathing fire

His head in the sky...

Godzilla! Godzilla! Godzilla!/

In Idiotproof, Castor thinks to himself his dear match could be called Mamazilla when it comes to their son's well being. He does so after realizing he's been summoned to the same world as his missing child (though he doesn't quite realize it's not by the same group yet).

A guardian is the parent of their mages. But no one outside a reality is actually related. Guardians simply see each other as brothers and sisters and in turn mages refer to children of their 'aunts' and 'uncles' as their 'cousins'.

A match is the same as a spouse among Chaos Mages. Except divorce isn't a thing...because to match literally means to match souls.

Yep. That was Sailor Pluto of Sailor Moon and Heimdall from Marvel comics at the end. Two nearly omnipotent beings... who want no part in the impending shitstorm. Doing what they can not to be drug into it.

Parallels introduced Pollux/Kid Flash, Castor/Klarion the Witchboy (Sylphine's match) and Artemis. It is set in Young Justice.

At the initial meeting are Felix and Peter from Once Upon a Time. In my fics they are servants of their reality's dark mage Gabriel (Sylphine's twin brother), making them second tier mages. Usually such mages are less powerful than their masters but have more freedom to directly interact with the workings of their reality. Those two are a special case. Their fic is Once Upon a Time in Everlie.

The Gabriel present as a conspirator isn't him though. He's the candy loving archangel/trickster from Supernatural. I haven't written a story for that fandom but he is one of its Chaos Mages. He will probably only appear once in awhile or be mentioned as I have yet to establish any real rules for his reality.

Titania, queen of the Third Race comes from Gargoyles. In that world the Guardian is actually Puck. He got so bored being in charge he allowed his children Titania and Oberon to believe they were his masters just to be free to have fun. Still Titania suspected things weren't as simple as all that. Their fic is Facade.

The the red eyed one is actually Vlad Masters from Danny Phantom where Danny (Nikkou) is really his twin and Clockwork (Ebedi) the Guardian. His true name is Oidiche. While pretty twisted by his own admission, he isn't dumb. He knows this plan is ill fated from the jump, bailing immediately. His debut is in The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions, the first time we meet Sylphine. The Jasmine mentioned is Danny's sister.

The other blonde, Okuninushi is the alter ego of Urahara from Bleach. His father is Gin (Izanagimi) the real Soul King who set the anime/manga world's events in motion as a test of how his subjects would function if he stepped back a bit. They totally failed. His siblings are whom many Shinto Gods are based:

Kenpachi: Battle and war- Hachiman

Aizen: Death and destruction, vengeance- Enma

Ichigo: Life, birth, protection - Kishi-Mojin (traditionally female in myth)

Ulquiorra: Enlightening wisdom, intelligence, understanding, intuition, long life - Fugen Bosatsu

Stark: god of dreams and the psyche - Baku; his doll sized helper is Lilynette - Hoshikawa

Orihime: good fortune, happiness, beauty - Kisshōten

Urahara: cunning, sorcery, medicine, self realization- Okuninushi

Kira: God of mercy, forgiveness - Kannon (traditionally female in myth)

Yes, there is incest happening in this family of gods. Aizen and Ichigo (brothers) together as well as Kira and Gin (son and father). To be fair a LOT of pantheons do this.

Lastly, Bakaret is Harry Potter whom Sylphine and Castor have been raising since Dumbledork left him on the Dursely's porch.

So, whaddya guys think? Good? Bad? Confusing? Lemme know. Reviews are like hugs! Sirensoundwave out!


	6. Hard Truths for Hard Heads

The light and dark sides both learn of some hard truths. Yet their leaders persevere, convinced their way is the only way.

*I...IHST*

By about the end of the 8th day, Bakaret was so done with this shit. 4 days after the fiasco in Diagon Alley, Bakaret sat in the receiving room of Black Manor brushing his hair while the adults of the Order conversed in hushed tones. He hadn't bothered with magic to style his tresses, opting instead to keep himself 'busy' while eavesdropping.

"Are you truly sure Alastor?" Dumbledore swallowed thickly.

"The evidence is right there Albus. My eye detected first but that potion confirms it." The one eyed ex-auror sighed. "The boy born Harry Potter has been corrupted by those strange entities. The creature your spell called forth is what rose in his place."

"Then the acceptance letter wasn't his doing. It was addressed to Lord Bakaret, Black Manor Kitchen" McGonagall frowned. The discussion continued along those lines and the young mage eventually turned them out.

So far he gathered that they were hoping to find their lost savior who defeated Wizard Hitler. Survived an unsurvivable curse that has no way to defend against it. A baby who did what none of them could.

A.

Baby.

For affinity sake!

Not only that, most failed to understand why he'd been 'lost' in the first place. Dead set on vilifying his mama and papa instead of considering their original plan to keep him safe juuust might have had several flaws in it. One of which being the very real possibility the Dursleys wouldn't keep him (based upon what the elderly Scottish woman had berated the old goat about). Another the far more likely scenario that a concerned party would happen upon the basket in passing, assess the situation of an unattended infant in the fucking cold for all of 5 seconds and go "...yeah, no" to avert an impending tragedy.

Kinda like what did go down.

Sorta.

And that thought gave him an idea. Why not show them exactly what happened? They want a weak little boy? Fine. Handle this you pricks.

"Since you all seem so willing to ignore obvious information, I think I will show you something from my past. I'm tired of hearing you bad mouth my family." The gathered Wizards jumped at the voice. Apparently they forgot he was in the house. With an exasperated sigh, Bakaret held out his left hand and that beautiful gold key inlaid with emeralds appeared in it.

The order found themselves standing in a lush garden. In the center of a clearing, petite woman stood. Her long ebony hair braided into many ropes. Small, no taller than five feet or so only with skin a creamy light brown and wearing a lovely white chemsong accented with gold butterflies , she smiled at something the wizards could not see at first.

"This is the one that piece of paper said stole me. Her name is Sylphine. She has lots of other names- Wind Witch, Lady Sun, Goddess of the Storm and others. But I just call her mama."

"My she's lovely." Tonks smiled, marveling at her aurate eyes and watching the woman kneel down to reveal a tiny version of their Boy Who Lived dressed exactly as he was now. Only difference being the material covered more of his small frame and his hair only reached just past his shoulders. The witch's own hair becoming a shocking blue at the sight.

"Mama would like your hair, her favorite color is gold but she likes rainbows too. She must be so worried about me." This one seemed to be one of the more tolerable of the group. Like the Scottish lady and the jumpy guy with all those face scars.

"Dear boy this girl is far too young to be a mother to a boy your age." Molly tutted. He scowled at her for those words. What she said next had him trying to resist singing just to watch her ears bleed. "It's also very obvious she's not of your blood with that complexion."

"Mama's a lot older than she looks. She also told me when I was really little that love not blood makes a family." /Count to ten...hum in your head.../

"Ah, so she hides her true age then. Shifty if ya ask me." Moody snorted.

/No one did cyclops. Control your breathing. In...out.../

"No. Chaos Mages are eternal. She can be any age she wants cuz she's older than the stars." He huffed. "Just watch."

/Look it mama!/ he cheered thrusting a ball of pulsating light forward with all the enthusiasm only a small child could.

/Oh yes my jewel well done! You're very good at solidifying energy. Now, focus and give it a form./ the small woman's voice sounded like bells on the wind to the wizards. They watched as the quaffle sized orb shrank and took on another shape, becoming a fluffy white chick. It chirped before nipping at his tiny fingers.

/Oh she's so small mama.../

/As we all are at first. Give her time my jewel and she will be a fine familiar./

/Papa!/ the younger Bakaret giggled turning around. /Look what I made today!/

The person he was addressing had to be well over 6 feet tall and well built. His skin the color of a clear sky on a sunny day with eyes as black as coal. When he smiled...the Order could see fangs in his mouth. Severus felt a chill run up his spine. That...creature was so familiar. But why?

/Great job kiddo. You'll be manifesting you conduit in no time./

/But Aky already has hers./ Young Bakaret pouted.

"Akik is my cousin. Her mother is auntie Psyphire."

/Because she became obsessed with manifesting it and worked very hard to do so kiddo. Don't worry, you'll get there./ the man laughed,

/Mama, papa? How come I look so different than you?/ Castor's smile faded. /Aky looks like her mama. Xaphy looks like his papa Polly. Mane looks like his papa Loki. But I don't look like my mama OR my papa. Why?/

"I remember the look in mama's eyes was so sad. I thought I said something bad."

She was a light brown, his papa a light blue and he was a pale peach color. Human children he had seen looked like their mommy and daddy. His cousins did too. The boy didn't exactly know yet but the whole adoption situation did stick out most with him. For the first time he could remember, she'd been speechless.

Over the child's head, the man locked eyes with the woman who closed hers and sighed at something unspoken. Taking the boy's hand, she led him to a nearby bench.

/Mama?/

/We...have something to tell you my jewel. It doesn't change anything- not how we feel about you, not who you are. It changes NOTHING. But you are old enough now to know and it would be wrong to keep the truth from you./ Sylphine spoke slowly, tears gleaming in her eyes.

/Mama? Why are you crying?/

/Bakaret, your father and I- oh Castor I cannot do this!/ she sobbed.

/We swore to if they ever asked. We all did Butterfly./ The blue man lightly touched her shoulder. With a hesitant nod, Sylphine steeled herself.

The resulting talk was as much a reassurance to him as his distraught mother. If his birth family didn't want or couldn't keep him for whatever reason that was just their loss to bear. He was there son no matter what. They loved him enough to take him into their lives and nothing could change that.

Then came his voice.

The wizards did not witness those memories but the previous scene had stirred them in Bakaret none the less.

His mama's strongest elemental associations were lighting and wind; hence her nicknames Wind Witch and Goddess of the Storm. Papa didn't really have one so much as just a tendency for and love of causing bad luck and trolling the hell out of people. There was the black rose petal thing...

His voice developed all on it's own with no assistance from his parents. One day he wandered into the Menagerie unaccompanied. Despite clear instructions not to do so, curiosity got the better of him one day while his parents were away. So it stands to reason that disobeying was incredibly stupid.

Something all claws and teeth ambushed him. A two headed snarling green beast from the moon of some planet orbiting a red dwarf star. Looking like an ostrich, bat and two saber toothed tigers were in a head on collision. Startled witless, he shrieked as pretty much any child would. The creature doing a spot on impression of an egg in a microwave caused him to shriek again.

Grandma Aurii rushed in to whisk him away and examine him immediately. His voice caused weirdness, a melding of his parents' hallmarks she concluded. Something confirmed by his conduits manifesting during her tests, which also startled him. She told him that what he did was perfectly normal. If he really concentrated he could achieve a desired effect but most of the time random shit happened. His singing voice was interesting too but he had a far greater degree of control over that...

She finished by explaining to him that when her daughter and son in law adopted him, it was a bit more complicated than just bringing him home. Her pink eyes looking at his folks as if they had done something stupid. Both looking as if they'd been caught in the cookie jar. What followed he did let his captors see.

/Mother we were going to tell him-/

/When child? I understand you were concerned for how he might feel about it but sometimes the truth is too important to ignore...no matter if it may hurt./ The pale blue woman with a bob of bubblegum pink hair and white eyes sighed. /Bakaret, you know what your parents are and their duties yes? That you were found by them?/

/Uh-huh. I mean yes'm./ The small boy nodded.

/Well, there are rules for interacting with our realities. Some apply only to we Guardians, some only to our children. Still others to us all. One that applies to our children is there must be no direct interference with those still apart of the mortal coil without the permission of that reality's guardian. In the case if a shadow reality, one must have the permission of their parent. I was not aware of you until my daughter brought you to Everlie./

Such a painful revelation was mitigated by how long ago it happened...and how wonderfully horrified the Order of the Phoenix was. Oh, so they were smart enough to put two and two together and get four. His experience to date would suggest otherwise. Bakaret showed no outward emotion other than sadness as they kept looking from his past to his present.

His younger self didn't notice he'd begun to cry until his mother threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. Though it took his young mind a bit to catch up to what she said, the manner of speaking wasn't the problem. That he was used to. What caused the waterworks was a sudden, horrifying realization: She'd found him on a door step, true. But by the time she discovered him, he had died of exposure. Saddened and recognizing this could be her only chance to have a child his mama resurrected him as her own.

Manestien had a connection to ice like one of his fathers and his rings could be used to control or cast spells like his other father's arrows. Unfortunately the ice thing was more like Elsa mid-movie: sorta controlled but has a 50/50 shot of devolving into a life threatening issue for those around him. His rings did obey him much better though. His problem being he was fond of using them on lesser beings for fun. But he only became that way because Manestein's birth father had already killed him when uncle Loki appeared before him.

Xaphia's trademark was his deadly accurate use of his yo yos something he inherited from his mother. He also had the greatest psychic ability out of the four of them including telekinesis not directly related to his conduit. Not bad for a kid whose eyes didn't work huh? Auntie Artemis pulled his charred body from that house but must not have been able to fully heal his eyes beyond appearing as flat crystal blue organs that served no purpose.

Akik could create almost anything she drew or wrote out with her feather quills. They were also wicked sharp just like her papers. Poor thing also had the unlucky privilege of being the only female of the group with Thor the Man Shaped Labrador for an uncle who somehow offered her hand in marriage to any random schmoe who managed to beat her in armed combat. Who knows if the smarts that kept her alive through that nonsense would have still manifested if that car wreck hadn't left three not two dead as Auntie Psyphire lead them to believe.

They were all dead kids. Of course the wizards only saw the shock on his face not the inner meltdown.

/My precious jewel, don't cry./ Sylphine whispered. /It is true your last life ended before it truly began and I am so sorry for that. But if it hadn't, you never would have come into our lives. That I am happy for./

/But what was wrong with me? Why didn't they want me? Why did they-?/ His words failed as his voice broke into sobs. There were reasons for his cousins at least. Believing their child better off dead than a slave. A house fire that also claimed another. An auto accident. Someone had just left him to die. Outside like trash...

/Dunno and don't care sport./ Castor pat his head. /Whatever the reason it doesn't matter because you had no control over it. It's not your fault in anyway./

"Albus! I knew just leaving him there was a mistake!" The Deputy Headmistress raged.

"Minerva please-" Her 'superior' fumbled over his words.

"PLEASE?! YOU SENILE OLD BASTARD, MY GODSON DIED THAT VERY NIGHT THANKS TO YOU!" Sirius screamed. Well he showed promise too...

*I...IHST*

_CREATURES UNITING UNDER MYSTERIOUS ENTITY_

_This reporter has uncovered evidence of a strange movement among magical creatures at great peril to their own person! An entity known only as The Silverlight has been marshalling not only weres, vampires and all manner of vile creature to follow it but centaurs, veela and other intelligent light creatures. We can only hope and pray this Silverlight has peaceable intentions and no plans to become the next dark lord._

"_Dark Lord? Oh no. The Silverlight is pure love. She promises freedom and security to those marginalized by society. Accept her divinity be rewarded with an inner peace unlike any they have ever known. Should you deny her, her arms are always open." a known werewolf replied when questioned about this entity by Aurors. Said were was wearing a ring about her neck...of pure silver without discomfort! Even more startling, she did not transform when secured on the night of the full moon. She merely sat in her holding cell with a serene smile as the moon's rays touched her skin._

_This reporter will continue to bring you updates in this most disturbing development as they occur._

_Rita Skeeter_

That short blurb one week after the summonings sent the whole of the wizarding world into a tizzy.

The very thought that dark creatures could unite with more acceptable ones, much less under the control of a single being was horrifying. Especially one powerful enough to keep a werewolf from transforming from afar.

Castor found it utterly hilarious and let his 'master' know how amused he was.

"The instant something you do not understand crops up you mortals assume the worst and cower." He laughed. Oh he had a good idea who this Silverlight was. The infamous trickster god's spawn was a perfect blend of him and his match: A beautiful shapeshifter who delighted in causing utter MAYHEM far beyond mere mischief to hell with the resulting body count. As vicious and cruel as he is lovely. But on the other hand, sweet and caring to those he deems worthy of his mercies. It was obvious he saw these wretches of wizarding world as poor souls in need of divine intervention. It didn't hurt that they were willing to worship him...

And Manestein fully recognized with this being a shadow world, he could to as he damn well pleased without permission. Their children were all so clever!

Bakaret though was more like his dear mother than himself if he were to be completely honest. Which meant his son's captors were in more immediate danger than his own. Sure they were two buckets of sass. Both mother and son had the uncanny ability to appear completely innocuous despite their power. Until you pissed them off; then you rue the day you ever met them. Unlike Castor though, they didn't really take joy in the devastation their wrath caused. Instead taking it as simply an inevitable release of pressure. All that build up has to go somewhere.

As best he could tell the group that summoned him were not unlike the Nazi regime. Touting blood purity and superiority of their race while being lead by a man (that's somewhat debatable) who by his own philosophy is deficient and unfit to live. This Voldemort had delusions of grandeur on par with dear uncle Vishnu. If this were a reality with a guardian, he would have been erased from existence by their children. Or at the very least rendered harmless enough to be ignored. This went far beyond the usual mortal stupidity; Voldemort's actions were quite literally tearing this reality apart. Just as Grinwald before him had done.

For whatever reason this world had not yet recovered from his campaign enough before Voldemort arose. Such large scale incidents usually occur centuries not decades apart in shadow realities because only anchor realities have the resources to combat them. When they do, the shadow realm usually folds. Nevertheless not only had snake face been systematically destabilizing his own world but had the gaul to drag other beings into his lunacy as well.

The nerve. Well, now they had a vested interest in this place.

Despite the display of power Klarion showed, mastery over death itself, still snake face thought he was the cat that caught the canary.

*Flashback*

"This child...who was he?" Klarion asked of his 'master' pointing at the boy who had been sacrificed to piece the veil and drag him here.

"Nothing to concern yourself with. Merely a product of a pureblood traitorous family. I suspect you are...famished yes? Is that the reason for your interest my pet? You may have the wretch if you desire."

"Hmm." Time to give Voldemort a glimpse of the power he seeks to bend to his will.

Without another word, the death eaters watched the 'dark fae' kneel beside the corpse. All turned up their noses in disgust, thinking this thing their lord summoned wished to devour the dead child. An even sicker thought crossed their minds as it leaned forward and touched it's lips to the child's. The action was quick and it pulled back just as suddenly. Then spoke in a language that sent shivers up their spines.

The runes they carved to summon their masters new pet flared to life once more, this time white as snow. A deafening boom sounded, a blinding flash shone and a wave of power knocked everyone present on their asses. Several disorienting moments of staring at the starry sky later, Voldemort's upper level minions beheld a terrifying sight.

Standing where the ritual had taken place, their previously dead sacrifice still swathed in a bloody robe. His skin now reflected the moon's pale light more clearly than it had before the summoning. But those eyes...glazed over and haunting frightened them the most.

A richer and more chilling shade of red than their master's. Perfectly matching the stone now embedded in his forehead. Giving a shrill cry, the child collapsed into the dark fae's waiting arms.

*end flashback*

Now here he sat stroking the hair of his new born son in some unsavory mansion. The child totally exhausted from rebirth lay in coma. Sagitarius is the one who had experience with causing rebirth in a child's body. Epsilon had the misfortune of having two personas that did not fully merge until after his/her borrowed time ran out. This child would have no such issue. He had seen what this child's life was like before; parents tortured into insanity, a harsh but loving in her own way grandmother to raise him...that dreadful uncle of his desperate to prove his line produced no...squids? Sibs? Whatever. Once he fully awoke, Roumpíni would know only of his father Castor. And soon, the mother and brother who would welcome him into their family with nothing but love and warmth. His new name and its physical manifestation were a reflection of his hair, the pool of blood Castor discovered him in and the beautiful shade of crimson his eyes became when they opened the first time.

*I...IHST*

Frightened and overcome with a cold feeling of deja vu Lord Lucius Malfoy sat in a daze. Atop his study desk sat two empty decanters of bourbon. Clutched in his hand a half full bottle of fire whiskey. Yet no matter how much alcohol he'd consumed sequestered in his private study, it could not numb him to the reality of his situation.

Malfoys were nothing if not purists. Voldemort's claims of blood supremacy had drawn him into the Deatheater fold obviously. However Lucius was already in too deep to get out before he realized his mistake. Riddle was, to be uncouth, balls to the wall out of his gourd. Yes purebloods were superior, mudblood lesser creatures with squibs and muggles barely fit to exist but exist they should only as the lower classes to be ruled. The strong subjugate the weak.

Unfortunately the Dark Lord's ideal world consisted of only pureblooded wizards. No squibs, no muggles, no mudbloods. An ideal that was insane on the face of it as much as Malfoy was loathe to admit. The wizarding world might not understand genetics but they did understand there was a certain threshold needed to maintain a species' survival; something discovered by the Ministry when attempting to explain the rising rate of squib births among noble lines. That said, there were simply too few pureblood families and too many of them closely related for wizarding kind to survive if Voldemort's plans come to fruition.

Of course the cronies in Ministry were just as stupid. Upon discovering they were GOING EXTINCT AS A PEOPLE, the response had been to destroy all the findings, obliviate anyone who didn't cooperate or presented a security risk (so everyone not in the highest of office...) and sweep the whole thing under the rug. The hope being things would sort themselves out naturally.

Honestly if not for listening to his gut and creating a pensive several weeks into the study, he'd be one of the clueless sheeple too. Not a single official record existed now. But he wasn't. Which lead him to set off a chain of events that all but assured the fall of his own house. He had no desire to carry on this way, but had not wanted the permanence of the situation that ensued.

The night Draco was born, the mediwitch put him to sleep with a spell the instant he drew breath. Weak and barely consciousness Narcissa's heart dropped hearing no wail. Distraught she cried herself to sleep as the body of her 'stillborn' heir was whisked away.

Healer Featherlorn had no objections to cooperating with his ruse up until he refused to allow her to place him with another family. A common enough practice for witches who bore unwanted children was to simply give them to ones who wanted them. Featherlorn had done so several times at the behest of the mother, father or other appropriately entitled individual in the family.

But never had the child been harmed. Realizing what the Lord planned she tried to fight him. Ending up with her memory of the event and a good half of her life wiped away. He hadn't meant for the Obliviate to be so strong. Still what's done is done. Now alone with two unconscious bodies, he cast the killing curse on his own son. A far more merciful fate than the life growing up under the Dark Lord's thumb promised.

Then HE appeared.

The entity identifying itself as Loki manifested before him, drawn by the intense sorrow, love and conviction of his killing curse. Yeah. Love. Lucius laughed too believing he'd finally suffered a psychotic break. The being frowning sobered him up though.

"I shall excuse your...outburst. The child, give him to me."

"What use is my dead son to you? I will bury him as is proper."

"I wish for him to live again." Loki pointed his jewel tipped staff at the man. "You may give him to me or I may take him. The effort required to erase you from existence is minimal mortal. Alas I have promised my love to at least ask before simply taking what I want so I shall answer your question. He will no longer be YOUR son but MINE once I breath new life into him."

"Why him then? Surely a being of your power could sire a child of their own."

Wrong thing to say. Loki's eyes flashed red and Lucius found himself forced to his knees. A stifling pressure that forced the very breath from his lungs crashed down upon him. The temperature drop so fast, ice crystals began to form from the beads of sweat on his brow. But just as suddenly it vanished. Looking up and panting for breath, teeth chattering, he knelt before Loki. This god like creature's eyes no longer held anger...but a profound melancholy. His free hand drifting to his midsection and pressing there dejectedly.

"No. The nature of what I am will not allow my body to sire or conceive offspring in the conventional sense."

"C-concieve?!"

"We of my race do not have genders in quite the same way as you mortals. Well some of us don't. In any case, I know that you did not want this. I do not know the reasons for those feelings but I sensed your love and caring for the life you just extinguished. And your desperate longing for there to have been another way. Because your actions were out of mercy, I will not smite you for them but you shall suffer for your inability to protect such a wondrous gift."

"What?"

"Come morning, your wife shall be forever barren as the desert sands. You yourself no longer able to plant seed within any woman. This house will fade from your history the instant the pair of you die. Would you look at that. I have granted your wish though certainly not as you intended. And still obtained my prize."

There was no time to question this. Before he knew it, the point of the staff had been pressed to his forehead and everything faded away. When he awoke, Featherlorn was examining him for magical exhaustion. The corpse of his infant son gone.

Now this...Klarion appears. Having the same aura as Loki. Desiring to revive an unfairly murdered child and keep them for his own.

Dear Merlin...

What have they invoked?

*I...IHST*

Look, it you don't know who's who by now...I suck at foreshadowing. Just in case here it is plus a little lesson in crystal magic:

Harry Potter: Bakaret is Hebrew for Emerald- A healing stone that ties closely with breathing. Used to heal a broken heart and help love endure. It can bring insight into matters of the heart (reveal infidelity if it changes color or cracks/breaks) as well as clearing the mind.

Draco Malfoy: Manstein is Norwegian for Moonstone- Obivious association with the moon. Represents the goddess, love, harmony and revealing what may not want to be found. But because of how it looks, Moonstone has also been associated with illusion, deception and trickery.

Hermione Granger: Akik is Turkish for Carnelian- Considered a gem for pragmatists as well as optimists. It brings clarity to the mind and brings stamina of the mental and physical variety. It brings good luck, particularly to writers.

Ron Weasley: Xaphia Vietnamese for Sapphire- The stone of artists. It is known to help boost creativity, intuition hope as well as protective magic. It is also said to be related to sight; both physical and psychic...

Neville Longbottom: Roumpíni is Greek for Ruby- The stone of vitality and courage. Used to assist with astral magic and bringing about bliss.

These are all stones associated with love, psychic powers, communication in some form and affecting harmony. Yes they were all chosen for those reasons.


	7. Games We Play

Sup. I was going to once again spotlight the search for the missing mages by their kin, then this idea popped up so yeah. Let's check in with the others stuck in the HP world and the havoc they are intent on wreaking, yes?

Fair warning: Siren (my dark muse) influenced the second half of the chapter.

Just to let you know.

*IIHST*

Wizards were retards.

No, that's not right. An insult to those who happened to process the world differently through no fault of their own. Who had little to no control whatsoever in their lot in life. Wizards, by the nature of their willful ignorance, were just dumbasses.

Blood purity was all that mattered; light, dark whatever side only cared how many generations back a family could trace magic back through their lineage. Never mind the fact that as of 100 years ago, the most powerful wizarding cores were being produced in 'impure' unions or springing up in children with NO magical relatives. And that was only that they were aware of. The trend could very well be much older than that.

Power, knowledge and how one used is what mattered. The mightiest of empires could be brought low with enough ingenuity on the side of the most unlikeliest of foes. Of course luck and karma had a part to play as well. Still, it made no affinity be damned sense to ostracize huge swaths of your own community and that of equally magical beings just to hold on to a flawed ideal. To this Manstein could find no credible reason.

When he was old enough, his fathers sat him down and explained his origins. And from that explanation, he gathered that he could have been one of these weak, pathetic sheeple had it not been for his birth dire caring enough to spare him from such a fate. Or being too cowardly to be that one spark to start a fire. Whatever. Point being, the very thought of being one of these vapid wand waving ninnies, the fact that had his papa not arrive when he had he WOULD be, made him physically ill.

Speaking of wands, it's one thing to require a talisman to use magic that is not your own. Belonging to another or even the talisman itself. But to require the forging of a conduit from something other than your own soul in order to use what you were born with? Lunacy! Shear lunacy! What a burden to be blessed with a gift and have no way to access it properly until someone hands you a flimsy stick and says go wild.

Or a punishment. Who had these idiots pissed off to be cursed so?

Manestein thanked the affinity he discovered his conduit; even though he was the last of his generation to do so, he found he had the most control over it's magical aspects. Just like his father Loki, he found his strength in sorcery, not combat. Spells always came naturally to him, even before his rings manifested. His body wasn't built for battle either. Of the four, he was the weakest and most easily injured by physical training. Even the only female of the group was stronger! At least her skills came from forcibly being placed in perilous situations where it was adapt or die; most of which came from using her mind to make her physical impact greater.

Unlike Xaphia who was a very good melee fighter and long range combatant thanks to his mother and fathers' rigorous training. His conduit, two sapphire yo-yos were surprisingly good weapons at any distance. A feat made all the more impressive by the fact that he couldn't freaking SEE. The red head's blindness was far from subtle-he had no pupils. His eyes merely aesthetic, not functional. Mane wasn't exactly sure how he processed the world around him but dammit did he do it like a boss.

He supposed himself and Bakaret were in the same boat. That shriek of his could shatter diamonds yet mute him and well, sitting duck. Both were much more effeminate than usual (something Uncle Thor had worried about...particularly since he mistook each boy for a girl when he first met them) in their appearance, mannerisms and style of dress. Both also took after their more...subtle parent. By subtle he meant dangerous.

Auntie Sylphine was all rainbows and butterflies; the picture of sainthood in a tiny package...until you get her mad. Then the affinity has officially forsaken you and all you hold dear. She tended to bottle things up instead if getting upset preferring to turn the other cheek as it were; but the well can only hold so much. Her penchant for presenting herself as an adorable and harmless child came across disarming, hiding the fact that you'd have better luck negotiating with a hurricane than stopping one of her tantrums. The hurricane at least bears you no ill will. In her campaign to reawaken Oidiche and Nikkou, she started off rather patient and benevolent for someone who was constantly in pain due to single handedly holding a foreign reality together and battling a bunch of hypocritical eyeballs who overstepped their bounds. All she ever did was try to get them close enough to each other to form a relationship built on brotherly love and trust. Right when the meeting was finally at hand after eons of effort, the causes of her situation dashed all her plans. And she sorta...snapped. The idea of any type of healthy relationship forming between the two mages she fought so hard to reunite went right out the window as one founded on hate and psychosis would mature MUCH faster. Especially with the right support team to fan the flames. Though it should be mentioned that in that situation there had been a bit of a schedule to keep before reality tore itself asunder.

His papa was the freaking God of Lies. Able to win wars with only his words (and occasionally a spell or two) to make his puppets dance. When Odin objected to his 'son's' adoption of him, he merely stared at the man who raised him. To say Odin wasn't thrilled about his relationship with Father either would be to call Yggdrasil a weed. It stemmed from a prophecy about his Papa...and any children he might have. Which was nonsense on the face of it, given anyone with half a brain put no stock in such things; the future is not absolute. Instead it is the sum of many ever evolving Sight their race was blessed with was proof of that. In response, Odin banished him and his Father, Sagittarius from their reality. Grandma Frigga, fed up with the bullshit, refused to let him in their marital bed. For roughly 2 Midgard years. Because her favored son was finally happy and her husband was being a prick about it, tearing him away from his loving family. That and his Papa had no shame in putting on the woe is me act and playing the mama's boy card for all it was worth. Nevermind that Sagittarius wasn't really one to give two shits about decrees and Loki was perfectly able to see the two whenever he wished. Nobody actually knew that part though.

Grampa Cyclops had no idea that several in his court became rather sympathetic to Loki's plight as well, planting the seeds of doubt in a few hearts that their great Allfather might not be all he claims. Doing the exact opposite of what throwing around his weight was supposed to. Mane shuddered to think what Thanos was going to get for mind rape and forcing his Papa to go temporarily insane. And likely the deserved and brutal punishment wouldn't involve the norse deity lifting a hand in attack.

Despite Sylphine being a Light Mage and Loki being a Dark one, both were capable of being violent, vengeful, destructive, calculating and cruel as all hell. Proof that the idea of good and evil was a flawed concept.

So, what was the young mage's plan to make these dimwits pay for dragging him back here? Amassing a formidable army for the dark, light or his own side? In only a few short weeks he had thousands of the magical world's disenfranchised at his beck and call. Or rather the Silverlight did.

No that would be messy. And too much work honestly. Instead, the best way to inspire mass panic was to have his growing following... do absolutely nothing. Make the wizards nervous to see an ever expanding power content in their own peace of mind with no designs on allying with any side. He laughed outright each time he read the Prophet's articles. It was soo much fun to watch the rats scurry about in confusion and panic. Grasping at straws. While at the same time giving many who had done nothing to deserve their lowly place on the totem pole hope for a better life. As much as he enjoyed causing chaos, it always rubbed him wrong when the undeserving got the shitty end of the stick. Yes bad things happen to everyone but when part of the very fabric of a society as something a certain 'type' was supposed to bear without question, the line was crossed.

It also helped distract from the fact that he had been thrown into this reality and his powers significantly muted. If that weren't the case, he would have noticed he wasn't as alone as he thought.

*IIHST*

"Play with me?"

Never had 3 words inspired such ominous feelings. Spoken so sweetly from a child no less.

No, this...creature was no child. It looked like that pathetic blood traitor Longbottom spawn. The same pudgy child that screamed and begged for his life the night their master ordered him held down. His throat slit ear to ear in order to feed the blood wards that would summon and bind the dark creature their master desired to tame. But this thing, now named Roumpíni, was a demon masquerading in Longbottom's corpse and nothing more. It wasn't merely mischevious as a child is want to be. No, it was bloodthirsty and sadistic to a degree that should have alarmed their Lord greatly. Voldemort only seemed pleased by it's antics, under the delusion that since he controlled it's maker, he controlled it too. Nothing was further from the truth.

"Play with me? I'm bored."

Those words were spoken to two low ranking death eaters in their master's presence. Without a word, they knew they must indulge it if the look in their Lord's eyes was any indication. How unfotunate for Lady Annoise Mugthorpe and Lord Barion Hashcorn. The pair expected to be forced to play tag or some other mundane game.

It was anything but.

"I can see your souls. They're so black and frayed from all the wicked spells you've cast. You've been very naughty. Just like every one in the next room. Except a few \ trying to cleanse their ledger."

"Shut up you lil cretin." Ann snorted turning her head from the child's eerie gaze. "Hoestly how a family of mudbloods preteding to be pure could gain so much prestige is laughable." A rush of air and a glimpse of a shadow startled her when she did. Though not nearly as much as suddenly being without her wand arm. He mind simply refused to process the fact that the limb now lay at her feet, the stump of her upper arm hemorrhaging like no tomorrow and staining her lovely puce robes. But her brain caught up real quick once the pain signals reached it though. She fell to the marble floor shreiking in agony.

"Did you mean my blood or yours?" Roumpini tilted his head. The shadows at his feet writhed like serpents. Barion was quite certain one had lept from the floor and mutilated his companion. The demon spawn hadn't even moved! " I wonder what that would do to a human body..."

Annoise cried grew louder as the vibrant crimson fluid flowing form her wound became more earthen in color and much thicker in viscosity. He blood had literally turned to mud. Pale skin rapidly grew dark from the change and she tried to crawl away as mud flowed from her mouth, noise and eyes. The tiny vessels in her body could not handle suddenly being so full of somthing so thick and unnatural to it. The child took great pleasure in watching her writhe as she slowly and painfully died. Barion proving no honor among theives, took the opportunity to run while he was disracted.

"That 's not FAIR! You're supposed to play!" The child roared. The thunderous tone had scared him so bad he shouted in fright. Hashcorn didn't even touch the doorknob before the shadows flooded into his mouth. Filling his body like a water balloon, stretching tissue far beyond it's capacity. Eventually reaching critical mass...

The sound of screaming had filled Riddle manor not long after the trio left down the hall. The 7 Death Eaters in the drawing room froze in terror at the noise reached a crescendo before a loud wet pop and suddenly all grew quiet. Their fear compounded when Roumpini returned to their master's study covered head to toe in blood. Tiny barefeet leaving a ghastly trail behind him. His expression petulant as he addressed his sire.

"Papa, my toys broke."

"You shouldn't be so rough with them Pini. They're rather flimsy to begin with. Chose them carefully and try not to wear them down so fast, okay?" Klarion walked up to him and ran a loving hand through blood drenched hair. "It's okay to have fun though."

"I see your son has quite an eye Klarion." Voldemort smiled. "Those two. I had found their loyalty...lacking as of late. You've done well child."

If the Great and Terrible Dork Lord had looked to his left, he would have seen his 'pet's' face sneering at his compliment. Then again he probably would have misread the expression anyhow. If Pini had singled them out as playthings, any notions of betrayal snake face happened to have were purely coincidental. Having not been able to create his conduit just yet, his bloody ruby did have an interesting relationship with shadows. They moved to his will and instinct as easily as he breathed. The devil's snare on the grounds had an attraction to him and been warped into a carnivorous new species. It'd already caused a few of Voldie's followers to disappear after getting too close to the boy.

Trauma and death scars the soul in ways that can never be fully erased. These bastards no doubt tortured him before they murdered him. He most likely went after those who hurt him most. That plus his childhood left traces he may never truly remember but shape him nonetheless. Bakaret aligned more with the light while his new brother's affinity lay with the darkness. It showed as their emerald took after his match, their ruby after himself. The fact that they were created by the one they favored probably had a lot to do do with it.

"Thank you sir. I promise to be more careful next time Papa." he beamed turning to face another death eater. "Play with me?"

The stench of a voided bladder and bowel filled the room as Peter Pettigrew immediately soiled himself.

*IIHST*

Yeah...

It really should be no surprise I turned one of the sweetest HP characters into an adorable monster. But given what happened to him beforehand...

Wormtail is boned.

The next Intersection chapter will probably take place in two different realities: SPN and Gargoyles.


	8. Karma's a B

Sup! Here's another interlude chronicling Sylphine's trek across the multiverse in search of her baby boy. It's taken so long because I had to decide what fandom would suffer her wrath next. Then it hit me: Fullmetal Alchemist.

To be fair, these interludes serve to knit my Reality of Chaos side stories together as well as show how these principles could be applied to almost any work of fiction. In fact so far I have over 10 that could tie into this directly or tangentially. The resulting swirl of entropic madness may or may not yield some of, all of, or more than the following 'eagerly' inquiring JUST WHAT THE FUCKING DEAL IS:

The Marvel Universe: Hands Off

The DC Universe: Parallels

Every fairytale being Disney either got totally wrong or lied out their ass about: Once Upon a Time in Everlie

An entire realm of ghosts: The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

A group of retro Scottish natives and the people assisting them adjust to temporal shift induced culture shock: Facade

A wholly different take on the afterlife complete with transforming swords: Megalomaniac

A group of mostly deluded but still powerful wizards and witches: Idiotproof is Highly Suspect Terminology

A gaggle of pretty soldiers in sailor suits with varying celestial abilities, lead by a crybaby who will jack you up if shit gets real. And the guy with access to kickass armour, a sword he knows how to use and psychic powers but chooses to fight evil in a flimsy tux and magic roses: n/a so far

A bevy of brawlers spanning multiple races and origins; several of which are prone to spontaneously rockin blue eyes and long blond hair if pissed: n/a so far

A young wild horse and the interesting times in which he lives: n/a so far but referenced in Hands Off

A pirate in yellow submarine and his bombastic (insane) group of frenemies: n/a so far

Two brothers and their angel buddy who seriously just want to know WTF...so they can gank it: n/a but referenced in several stories

A quirky info broker with a creepy fascination with humans and a debt collector with rage issues who really just can't even right now: n/a

Two genius brothers who just wanted to fix a mistake...that never would have happened if an anthropomorphic white blob hadn't been a lazy asshole: n/a but totally the point of this interlude.

Curiosity peeked? Onward!

*I2*

To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.

After it's world came into being, the entity known as Truth looked around at it's brethren across the multiverse...And said nope.

Spending eternity as a glorified babysitter to the insects he created that at any moment could destroy their own reality if he didn't pay close enough attention sounded as amusing as a hole in the head. So, Truth set forth to make it's own rules within the rules. Remove the need to have chaos mages by making the chance of such screw ups virtually impossible. Give them all equal access to the cosmic energy and make the taboo price so steep few would dare break it and even fewer would survive the cost. Make himself known to those dumb enough to try. And equivalent exchange would do the rest.

Things rolled on pretty smoothly. Until...

Van Hohenheim and Dante came in like a wrecking ball hellbent on changing the natural order Truth so carefully set in motion. These two dunderheads wanted to live forever when they had no right to, deciding mass genocide and swapping bodies like underwear was the way to do it. Even after the whole unpleasant side effect of their shiny new meat suits beginning to rot away from the inside out. The change happening faster with each body they stole. The pair having no understanding that the human body was not meant to handle the power of the Philosopher's stone- thus why homunculi could never be human in the first place. That the creatures' sanity deteriorated the longer they existed; if you could call the torture of memories and longings belonging to the dead person you were meant to be but never would sanity in the first place. That that damn stone was never meant to exist but thanks to that pair it did.

Then along came Edward Elric and by association his brother Alphonse. Unlike every other before them that tried human transmutation and failed, they not only set about fixing their mistake and doing some good along the way, the pair was willing to give up their chance once they learned the true cost of the stone they sought for 3 years. It wasn't worth the cost. And they actively tried to destroy it. The elder willing to sacrifice the thing that made him unique for to restore the younger to normal. Two children had a better grasp of the workings of the universe than a man and woman centuries old. There was just something about the two, their compulsion to set things right no matter what amused and confused Truth. He knew Ed would offer his Gate for his brother's body So, he was going to cut them a break or sorts; throw in his arm and leg for free..

Then this shit happened.

"Great. Back here again." Edward sighed. To be fair the Gate of Truth is where he wanted to be for this to work but still, he hated that featureless jackass as much as the bovine mammary secretions it reminded him of.

"GET YOUR LILY WHITE ASS BACK HERE!"

That...wasn't Truth. It was fair too feminine, too high pitched and too cheesed off.

"GAH! I told you I can't do it!"

That was it. Though a lot less haughty and put together than usual. Ed looked around until he saw the familiar deity booking it across the white abyss like it's metaphysical ass was on fire. Hot on it's heels a small (shorter than him!) girl, dressed like a Xingese warrior and armed with folding fans? That's not important. What was important were the bolts of lightning she was shooting off with them.

"Be reasonable child! Even if I wanted to help you, my world works differently than yours! I cannot open the gate without being paid a toll!"

"If you wanted to?!" she girl roared. "IF YOU WANTED TO?! I never asked to be here you freak, someone threw me here! How's about you open that gate and I don't make you shoot electricity out of your ass!? How's THAT for payment?!"

"What is going on? Al!" Ed's scan had completely missed the emaciated body propped up against the stone gate, being too distracted by whatever was happening off in the distance. It was only his soulless shell but still, he was right there! This had to work. Seeing him again was too painful for it not to.

The sound of a body hitting the ground then being stomped on like no tomorrow once again drew his attention back to the weirdness. Truth was splayed out face(?) down with the strange girl bouncing on it's back like a trampoline. Though Ed was fairly certain it didn't enjoy it at all as the girl seemed intent on breaking it's back The deity wailing pitifully all the way. This girl...how could she possible force something like Truth to beg for mercy?

"I give!" Truth hollered. "I give!"

"Then send me on my way!" The girl allowed the deity to stand. Her arms crossed over her chest expectantly.

"I CAN"T. Not without being paid a toll. Equivalent Exchange prevents me from just conjuring things without something in recompense." Seeing her left eye began to twitch, the Keeper held up it's arms in defense before hastily continuing. "You're not mortal! Your energy could do it though you might be weaker for some time once you pass. Or you could use him." The being thumbed back at Ed.

For a moment, she didn't seem to have heard the response. Standing completely still and just blinking at the blonde. Then her gaze drifted to Alphonse's body What was she thinking? Holy shit! Was she considering using them to pay her toll? She continued to just stare at the brothers, making all present uneasy. Especially when Ed noticed a growing spark of abject horror alight in her eyes. Her blank expression gave way to one of disgust and anger.

Truth tried to back up.

CRUNCH!

"You dipshit." came the cold reply. Truth now stood clutching it's face(?), blood trickling between its fingers. Ed couldn't help but have mixed feelings about the whole thing. On one hand she'd refused an offer to use them as cannon fodder, drawn her arm back and struck like a piston to make the prickliest thorn in his side bleed like a waterfall. On the other hand she had made Truth bleed- what was she to do that to a god like entity? Have it so terrified and be able to injure it at all?

"Will you stop that?!"

"You monster. You're no better than Vishnu; thinking it's perfectly acceptable to break the rules to suit your fucked up whims." Her voice remained level, only her glowing golden eyes betraying her fury. "You don't even FEEL it do you?"

"..."

Again with the staring, this time at Truth itself. Who despite having no face, managed to look ashamed with the girl's gaze boring into it like a laser. Until she sighed and buried her face in her small hands.

"You don't nor have no idea what to do about it. Outstanding." she groaned. "Why am I always cleaning up the messes caused by my aunts and uncles? I really thought you all were supposed to be sage and crap. Aside from Mama, Uncle Ebedi and Auntie Aurii, you all seem to be morons. There's a difference between bad luck a bass ackward logic you know that right?"

"Get off your high horse girl. You've no idea what you're talking about, you're just a mage-"

"Who, at present, could whoop your ass. By myself. Doesn't that seem a bit unbalanced to you?" Her stare was flat. "You've screwed with the way things are supposed to be so much, Affinity balanced things out the best way it could to keep this reality from cracking like a china plate. At least that shows you're slightly smarter than Vishnu. You traded your real power for whatever half baked version of order this is. Equivalent exchange is just another term for it. So, how's that workin for ya?"

"If you're so much smarter and more powerful than me, why don't you figure out how to leave?" Truth's tone was bitter with a sharp sting.

"I already have. And as a bonus, I'm gonna help you out of this mess."

"Or, you need to fix what's wrong so you can be on your way."

"To-may-to, to-mah-to. Don't be more of a dick."

By this time, Ed was certain he'd either had a stroke, was hallucinating, dead or something of the like. Words had officially lost any meaning. What the hell was going on?! The fact that both were now looking at him made him realize he'd shouted that last bit. Now (more) uncomfortable, he shifted around on his feet nervously.

"It's your lucky day Mr. Al-che-mist. My...guest may just be able to get you out of this with no toll." There was the smarmy condescending bastard Major Elric hated so much. It might have looked more imposing if not for the river of red running down its front.

"Stop trying to save face. You've lost all credibility, shut up." The girl shook her head, then flashed an angelic smile at the braided blonde. "What Truth meant to say was all the shit I'm sure you two've been through has given you so much karma credit it's ridiculous. And because he fucked up, the cosmic balance has put you on a pretty rough path to being where you truly belong. I'm Sylphine. Though the circumstances could be better, it's nice ta meetcha cuz!"

WHAT?!

*I2*

Far away, in the last reality the Goddess of the Storm had visited, sat a frazzled blonde desperately trying to appear as if everything was alright to those around him as he sipped tea poured for him by a small pigtailed girl. Sitting across from him, his younger brother not buying it for a second.

"You are aware that once our sweet little cousin realizes you derailed her to a reality that poses issues for those wishing to exit when her goal is simply to find her stolen child, she will at some point return here to violently castrate you and hand you your testicles in a jar yes, Onikunishi?" the brunette drawled.

The only response he received was the thump of a head making contact with wood and a loud groan from his elder brother.

"Please go away, Enma."

"Oh no. I intend to stay nearby to have a front row seat for that."

*I2*

Yup. Truth is the guardian of the Fullmetal Alchemist world. Meaning Ed and Al were supposed to be it's mages. Even though Truth tried to avoid creating them, the Affinity decided their existence was inevitable. One way or the other. Hence Truth not really recognizing them for what they were and perfectly okay with throwing the brothers under the bus..

Despite it all, Sylphine is still the same super sweet person from "The Road To Hell is Paved with Good Intentions"; willing to give her all to help even though she could avoid all the hassle it puts her through. It just so happens this time it's mutually beneficial and not just out of the kindness of her heart. And considering the situation with her missing son, it's a given her patience has become a rare comodity :P

Almost makes you pity Truth and Onikunishi. Almost.

Shameless Self Promotion:

This chapter has spawned another RoC fic "Equivalence is Relative" set in the FMA reality. Like the anime (2003 version is what I know besr) there'll be humor but I intend it as a more serious look at elements of how that world works.

Love it? Hate it? Complete indifference? Reviews are like hugs! Sirensoundwave out!


	9. The Definition of Insanity

Wizards were too stupid to live.

That was the only explanation for what Bakaret was seeing right now: The Order of the Flaming Chicken (no, they didn't deserve the name of such a majestic and intelligent creature as a phoenix) strung up like lights around the foyer of Grimmaulde Place. Well the stern sensible cat lady was at that school they keep talking about. The scarred scruffy man wasn't there for whatever reason.

And the one with shaggy hair stood beside him (having been the only one quick enough to fucking MOVE) looking at his cohorts in a mix of awe and horror.

There were few things Albus Dumbledore truly feared. That his plans to stop the dark lord's return would be for nought. That one day production may stop of his beloved lemon drops. And the Indomitable Molly Weasley in mama bear mode. So, he found himself redrawing the runes to summon something otherworldly under pain of death.

Bakaret woke up to the bustling of the house. Yawning he descended the staircase, his long hair flowing over his shoulders. He noticed the lovely phoenix bird was nowhere in sight. If a phoenix bails things are about to go tits up, as his father would say. Yay.

"Um, what are you doing?" he eyed the array on the floor. It looked like the same as the one that brought him here.

"We are going to return the other children taken." Moody replied. "If it worked for you surely it will work for those three. Your lot might have 'taken care of' them thus far but it's time they come to their rightful home. Merlin knows what damage has been done to them if yer any example."

For affinity sake. This bullshit again? Even after he showed them...wait.

"Who are you trying to drag here this time?"

"We will be returning my little boy to his true family." Mrs Weasley nodded with finality. Her boy? Hmm, red hair so Xaphia. Well that idea's just all kinds of terrible.

"...that's a bad idea." Bakaret deadpanned.

Boy was it ever. They got lucky with him. His mama had always taught him to protect himself but try not to actually kill anybody until he was sure of who his enemies were. His father was less cautious; "If someone is dumb enough to do something to you, they better be strong enough to handle you. If not, too damn bad. They really shoulda thought that through." His scream which looked like a fear response instead happened to be quite controlled. It would have caused the Order to blackout if not for that google eyed old fart. Yes there'd still be structural damage but he would have simply left after they were all out cold with no lasting damage to the people in it.

Xaphia was raised by a woman trained from birth to be an assassin. By a dark mage who was known for his rather violent reactions to attack. And a light mage who was kinda a rush in head first kinda guy. It didn't take a genius to know dumping their child in a strange environment was as bright as running while juggling chainsaws. Not that any other choice would have been much better.

Thanks to their stupid uncle Thor, Akik was battle ready all the time. She couldn't afford to let her guard down and have some pedophile win her hand because she happened to not be paying attention. Last he heard from her she was on her way to confront him about that dumb decree. Welp, better her than her mom.

Manestien was the most intentionally cruel one of their generation. He'd have used his rings to make them his puppets forcing them to do (quite likely terrible) things for his own amusement. Simply played with them until they bored him and 'broke'. Last time they were all together he had been trying to help Akik find a loophole in that marriage contract.

"Of course you think that but don't they deserve to meet their own kind?" Tonks tried to be placating. "To know where they came from?"

"They LIVE with their own kind. We're Chaos Mages like our parents, not wizards. I think Mr Ollivander's destroyed shop shows that."

"Rubbish. I've spent 11 years believing my little boy had died. He is coming home and that is final. Albus, activate this bloody thing."

The headmaster waved his wand as did the others in tandem, all chanting gibberish and the runes and various shapes glowed a deep red once more blinding all present for a moment.

When the light died, in the center knelt a boy with spiked hair as outrageously red as the Weasley family dressed in a very simple was garment. A dark blue robe bjt not like the wizarding ones. This one was short sleeved, thigh length and closed by wrapping it around the front then securing it with a deep purple sash. Under it, a pair of dark blue shorts. On his feet, black slippers. His head raised and Molly cried out in fright. Dull blue orbs stared out at her unseeing. her baby boy was blind!

"Ronald? Dearest-" as the rotund matriarch stepped forward, so did Bakaret. To ready his conduits as defectors and keep the woman for losing her head to either the sapphire yo-yo that could be flung out at her or the string his cousin had surely made sharp as wire.

"Where am I?" The tone that cut her off lent to the overall dangerous vibe Xaphia tended to give mortals when somewhat irked. "Who are you people?"

"Ronald, its mother. I've waited so long to finally see you. All this time we thought you dead." Mrs Weasley was choking on her own words. Tears streaming down her face. Bakaret truly felt sorry for the woman understanding her want to have her child back, not some soldier to save her world but her own flesh and blood. But Xaphia wasn't her kin anymore and of the 4 of them-

"I don't know you lady. My mother is who I was just with." The boy grunted.

-he's the bluntest. Xaph didn't really talk a lot. When he did, it tended to be short and to the point without a lot of flowery language. So he often came off as cold and mean to those who didn't know him. Predictably, Molly collapsed bawling her eyes out and wailing that her baby has been turned against her.

"What further proof do we need? These monsters steal our dead children and use dark arts to make them these corrupted parodies." Moody spat, moving towards Xaphia wand raised. "Albus this madness must end!"

Those blind eyes casually swiveled in the ex-Auror's direction. And that was Sirius' cue to get the fuck out of the way. His placement for the ritual had him just to the now advancing wizard's left. He couldn't explain it but every fiber of his being screamed at him to move when the supposedly blind boy looked in their direction.

Bakaret sighed.

Whatever Mad Eye or Dumbledore or anyone was about to say was cut off by screaming. Both in horror and in pain. The wall the would have been behind Lord Black was now spattered with blood. Xaphia had merely turned and flicked his wrist launching a yo-yo at his attacker then quickly jerking it back. This resulted in the string looping around the man's arm for a second. Until he violently yanked and the appendage was severed. Moody's wand arm no longer attached to his body now lay at his own feet.

The reaction was a flurry of movement. The wizards drew their wands and Xaph produced a second yo-yo. Before a single spell could be fired, the deadly red head had woven the strings of his conduits around every wizard and witch except for Sirius. At the time they were merely immobilized. But all it would take is a tug and they'd be standing in a room full of dismembered body parts.

"Hey Xaph."

"Hi Bakaret. What is happening and why shouldn't I pull?" Xaphia did not rise from his crouch. "I was training with my mom."

"Even though people in this world are too stupid to live, we might need these idiots to get home. So don't kill them. Yet." The green eyed boy sighed. Warily, his cousin retracted his weapons."See if you had listened to me, you'd still have two arms and the room wouldn't have been repainted."

No one said a word as the effeminate boy practically skipped over the the wounded old man and picked up his arm. Moody started to protest until it was held up to the stump by one of the boy's hands and the other positioned the tip and bit of one of these blasted keys a hair's width from the two pieces. Turning it towards then away from himself as if unlocking then locking a door Bakaret smirked at the shock on the man's face. It's not everyday one's severed limbs reattached with a green and gold light.

"Oh dear." Was all Albus Dumbledore in all his wisdom managed to say.

"How about you pay attention the next time I tell you an idea is dumb?"

*IIHST*

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

-Attributed to Albert Einstein.

Three down, one to go. There is a reason they didn't appear all at once. Rather than make you all guess I'll explain.

When Bakaret was pulled back into the HPverse, his polar opposite Manestein was as well. So it stands to reason now that Xaphia's made the scene Akik won't be far behind right? As for why Castor ended up there? He...really shouldn't have. Voldemort's summon should have yielded the former Malfoy heir. Remember how Onikunishi said they might have made a boo-boo because they sorta forgot affinity (balance/karma) is sentient when confronted by Sylphine? Not only did the coalition of meddlers manage to piss her off but they sorta screwed up their own plan. Congrats guys. Also fixed the error in the last chapter. Onikunishi is the eldest of the Bleach reality mages. Changed the chapter title too.

Love it? Hate it? Reviews are like hugs! Sirensoundwave out! .


	10. Silver and Cold

Whazzup?!

Sorry, I'll never type that again.

So a quick summary of this chapter:

Anybody wonder where Lupin was when Xaphia was being summoned? More of the illogical paradigms of the magical world are noted, good old fashioned family bonding happens (not really but at least no one dies) and our favorite papermaster makes the scene in her spectacularly badass way.

Let's go!

*IIHST*

"Hello child."

All Lupin could process was just how...large she was. Not fat by any stretch of the imagination, just well... It seemed as if a normal sized woman had been hit with an enlargement charm, the being before him stood at least a head taller than the Keeper of the Keys. Or rather she would if she were actually standing. Though from the size of the throne she sat upon, it was easy to infer from the fact that even while seated, she cast a shadow over the werewolf. Said throne looked to be a large blossoming white rose upon which she elegantly sat, legs to one side, back straight as a rod. Hands primly placed in her lap.

Her eye were pools of iridescense; milky, pupiless and reflective like moonstone. Which is likely what the teardrop shaped gem upon her brow was. Her flawless skin not quite white, not quite grey but a stunning middle ground of the two that gave off a heavenly glow. Her lips...her lips were an odd coloring that reminded one of polished silver, the same color present on her nails. Her hair the color of morning fog, that was the only way he could describe the straight tresses that spilled down over her shoulders, over the edge of the platform. All of her features wonderfully complemented by her ivory trumpet dress with boatneck. For such a simple design it looked so noble on her.

"M-my lady. Thank you for this audience-"

"You have no need to be nervous Remus." her voice possessing such a soothing melodic tone. "I know why you have come to me."

Oh dear. The Sliverlight knew his name. Did she know he'd come not to join her but see what her intentions were? That he acted as an agent of the Light?

"Yes Remus, I know you are here at the request of your...benefactor. But do not fear, I am not angry. Though I wish to know, what is in your heart?"

"My heart?"

"Yes child. Was this merely a mission? Or to satisfy your own desires? I know many things, true. Your childhood turning, the scorn you face even now for something that was never your choice. Have things improved since then? Are you happier now?"

Lupin knew what she was doing immediately. Trying to get him on her side, tear him away from the Order. He'd expected nothing less really, so had Dumbledore and Snape, warning him of it quite well. The headmaster constructing powerful mental blocks to keep her from manipulating him. So how could she-

"We are rarely as powerful or as helpless as we lead ourselves to assume. Your Dumbledore is not as strong as he believes. Neither is this so called Dark Lord. If not for stunning blindness on their parts, they'd see they are perfect reflections of one another lacking a balancing force. So concerned with their quest they fail to see or could care less about the casualties in their wake. Tell me, what have you gained as a Order member?"

The loss of several close friends through death or insanity. The Longbottoms were some of their most powerful casters yet Bellatrix had reduced them to drooling lumps. Lily and James were known to have died that Halloween night but to further learn their infant had as well broke his heart. Knowing the child this Pure Light brought forth was all that remained of Harry but at the same times was not broke his heart even more. It didn't help that the wolf seemed to recognize this long before Bakaret confirmed it.

The near loss of Sirius' sanity to Azkaban. Albus let him suffer there for nearly 10 years. He had felt something wasn't right but like all of them believed in The Lord Black's betrayal due to the facts presented and their own grief. Still, when Albus had suddenly came across information that could prove his innocence it was a blessing right? So why did it feel as if the only reason it came to light at all was Sirius's power could be used to amplify the strange ritual to retrieve Harry? Why had he still not presented it to the masses? Yes the MoM was full of buffoons but the media proved a useful tool before- the average witch and wizard taking the Prophet's print as the word of Merlin. Surely Albus had his reasons...but were they good enough reasons given the situation?

A place to cower and hide from himself. He could not get a job, least not a legal one for more than a few months at a time. The whole of his support coming from what was left of the meager assets he acquired drifting from menial job to menial job. Which to be honest dwindled by the month as the cost of effectively keeping himself locked away every thirty days turned out to be nearly on par with that associated with the wolfsbane potion. All being part of the Order did in that regard just assured the beast wouldn't get loose should he become careless or worse completely destitute.

No, he told himself. Opposing Voldemort was the most important thing right now. That mad man had taken everything he loved from him. He could not be permitted to continue destroying their world.

"You mean the same world that condemned a helpless child for being cursed? The one that lead him to believe his only living family would be better off believing he were dead than to have to support a 'monster'? Perhaps you mean the one that holds blood status above all else, despite such being constantly proven to be moot? Or maybe the society which fostered the prejudices and self hatred that warped a lost and alone Tom Riddle into Voldemort and likely had similar involvement in the creation of his predecessor? I am curious, to which do you refer child?" She tilted her head slightly, awaiting his answer.

Said answer took sometime. To be honest Remus couldn't decide which terrified him more- that she spoke the truth or that his response would anger the larger than life woman. One of her hands looked to be as large as his head and he had no doubt she could flick it off his shoulders given sufficient motivation to do so. Displeasure at his insolence seemed to fit that criteria.

"I, I believe things can change my lady. They will change once the war is over." Oh what the hell? In for a knut, in for a galleon.

"Hm." she nodded. "If you say so. Please tell Mr. Dumbledore he has little to fear from myself or my children. We want only to live in peace and wish him the best of luck in ending this war."

"Wha?"

"I thought I made it clear I do not mind your true motive for coming to me. Were you expecting me to badger you into abandoning your chosen side to stand at mine?" the graceful being looked confused. "Or did you believe I would not allow you to leave unharmed if at all?"

Uh, yeah? He came into her circle, was lead to this well warded and hidden glade by one of her followers, as a spy to gather intelligence. An utterly failed spy but one nonetheless. Anyone powerful enough to tame weres on the full moon, relieve vampires of their lust for blood or be unaffected in the slightest by a dementor (in hindsight the MoM really should have considered she might turn the 3 that 'escaped' into her pets...) had to be a force to be reckoned with.

"To be honest my lady yes to all. Your appearance during these troubled times have many on edge. Those who find peace with you were expected to eventually side with You Know Who if anyone." Remus sighed, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been still holding. The Silverlight blinked rapidly then laughed. A musical version of a noblewoman's amused sound.

"It was nice to meet you Remus Lupin. Should your views or situation change, my arms are always open."

His wolf howled in anguish at the thought of leaving this beacon of comfort as Remus himself passed out.

*IIHST*

So, this is awkward.

Albus too many middle names Dumbledore with far more titles than necessary found himself at a loss. All he wanted was to return their savior. Guide the boy and hope it would be enough for him to conquer the Dark Lord and by some miracle the child could live through the battle. That this 'Light' would give the child the edge in that. He finally had a compelling reason to spring Sirius from that Merlin be damned place that wouldn't result in them all joining him there.

Instead he got two pint sized problems.

Harry refused to answer to his birth name, something that could be worked around. The fact that he could not wield a wand (or rather shouldn't due to the...interesting effects) as a proper wizard should was somewhat of a sticky wicket. What he did use to channel his magic could in no way pass as one. Not to mention the fact that those strange keys could be used like staff weapons. And that didn't even touch how unlike Harry Potter (or ANY wizard for that matter) the boy appeared. His everyday apparel appeared beyond scandalous! As he aged it could only grow more improper. and that strange jewel...

Molly found herself devastated that her son rejected her. Ronald Billius Weasley had died the day of that fire and in his place the child known as Xaphia was born. Though after being filled in on the circumstances of his being summoned, he approached the Weasleys.

"My cousin says you meant no harm in bringing me here. That you spent many years attempting to find me. For that I am grateful." Xaphia bowed respectfully. "Still, my name is Xaphia. You are not my family. I don't know you."

Well, Har- Bakaret did warn that that interaction could have involved far more blood. So, for the sake of the greater good, he decided to encourage the Order to indulge the children in their claims as Chaos Mages. If it got them to open up to the idea of helping, then it was worth a shot.

"I believe Mama found me that day. There was a fire...I died. When she remade me, she could not fix my eyes, even with Cha's help." Xaphia nodded. The way he talked of dying so casually made the Weasley matriarch stifle a sob. "It's nothing to be sad over ma'am. Ba says I simply have on less sense to deceive."

"Ah, who are Cha and Ba?" her husband ventured.

"My fathers."

"Beg pardon?"

"Cha's is Pollux, a Light mage. Ba's is Gabriel, a dark mage. Mama kinda isn't light or dark." The blue eyed boy shrugged. Bakaret hid his amusement at their incredulous stares, schooling his features to a perfect blank mask as his cousin spoke. Oh they were gonna _love_ this. "I am a dark mage."

"You are nothing of the sort!" Molly barked. "How can you say such a horrid thing?!" To think a dark anything had been raising her precious child in some inappropriate polyamorous situation. She couldn't accept it.

"My affinity is dark. His is light." Xaphia shrugged thumbing back at his cousin.

"I explained this to you all." Bakaret sighed, giving the impression of wanting to defuse the situation. While intentionally doing the exact opposite Dumbledore suspected. "Chaos Mages are either light, dark or neutral."

"What actually determines that?" Arthur cut his wife's upcoming rant off. "I mean why are you...dark?"

Xaphia just stared at the man (well, appeared to look in his direction) and lifted a brow. Eerily, his eyes shifted to his wife. Another disturbing thing. While Alastor's eye was obviously false and enchanted to allow much more in depth sight, no such magic could be detected with the red head. Upon closer inspection, the orbs in his skull were indeed a set of solid two toned sapphire crystals. The "whites" simply the area with less blue. The precious jewels were part of his anatomy as was the large teardrop emerald affixed were Bakaret's scar should be. Embedded in his skin instead of merely on top of it for decoration.

In any case, Xaphia did not reply. Having heard his cousin had tried to explain it before he concluded they'd either ignored the viridian eyed boy or were simply too dense to understand what had been said to them. Either way he refused to waste his breath. Bakaret gave his now familiar coquettish giggle (that he could even sound like that still unnerved them) watching his 'blind' cousin walk away with purpose. Easily avoiding clutter to leave the kitchen.

"I told you all before where we are born determines that. The side of the affinity you fall on depends on the forces at work there already. I turned out light because my mama made me in her home reality. Uncle Gabriel's priests being so powerful had unbalanced things a little so ta-da." He motioned to himself with flourish. "Xaphia was born where his mama was born and the scales were already tilted toward the light after...um an incident, so he turned out dark. I think the reason you guys are having trouble is you hear dark and think evil. While I don't claim to understand your society fully the books in the library seem to suggest you classify magic based on the intent of the user right? I mean there's loads you already classified."

"Of course." Arthur agreed readily. Molly seemed torn between following her 'Ronnikins' or staying put and giving him space.

"Well, if I used a levitation charm to drop an anvil on someone, is it still a light spell? If I used a severing curse on an unsalvageable limb that would kill the person if left alone, is it still a dark curse? In both cases, my intent is the same as it would be with spell's usual uses. So what's the difference?" For once, he wasn't trying to be a smart ass. A burning question since he discovered the Black library days ago he genuinely wanted an answer. Surely such a question had been posed before in the wizarding world. There's that optimism Light mages were famous for.

Unfortunately, the confounded expression on the Weasley's then the seconds then ticked by in silence caused that faith to waver...a lot. With an exasperated groan, he facepalmed.

"You mean NOBODY'S ever asked that?!"

"I suppose it's never really come up before dear." Molly looked deep in contemplation. The strangled sound of frustration the child made startled her.

*IIST*

"I said fuck off! It's over dumbass!"

"If I can't have you, no one shall!"

After his humiliating defeat before the Princes of Asgard, Anu lost it. It didn't matter that Lord Thor had rescinded his decree. Akik was destined to be his. Or no one's. When that little harlot tried to run off, he grabbed her. No one noticed him teleporting out of the water.

Now he was in another human settlement. The vermin screamed when they appeared, fled as they did battle. No matter, they were of no consequence. In his reality, his subjects had the sense to leave when their gods were at war.

The object of his desire on the other hand was PISSED. Whatever for you ask?

First off, after forever of fighting off horny and/or power hungry pedo jerks it took a stunningly short amount of time for her to kick her uncle's ass. For the embodiment of battle and strength, the one responsible for all the strife she endure since meeting him, Thor went down like a punk. Though the look on his face when she snatched his precious hammer and knocked him across the bank with it was priceless. She supposed his utter shock played into his inability to defend himself from the much less experienced mage.

Second, just when he agreed to lift his decree (muttering it with his last breath before completely clocking out face down in the mud), she felt a weird tug on her jewel. At the same time this bastard managed to get out of the river and grab her ankle. Next thing she knew she was in London. Which London was debatable but the sight of the clock tower the houses Big Ben overlooking the Palace of Westminster left little doubt. Somehow she's been warped from one riverside to another. But the second they arrive, Anu starts attacking her. AGAIN.

Worst of all, not only did he seem to not care that her hand was no longer a prize but he had no regard for the people caught up in their fight. Before, she had been the sole target and the battlefield had few bystanders. Now he was unleashing the full power of his sword swing in a major metropolitan area. Tearing up asphalt, demolishing structures and no doubt injuring people left and right. Her focus got split between defending herself and defending the citizens of London. This idiot had gone off the deep end, hellbent on killing her damn the collateral damage. Each time she turned her attention to erect a paper shield around some unlucky brit, Anu came in for a killing blow. Akik couldn't keep doing this. She was so DONE with this...

"Swan Song Guillotine!"

Never before had she used a worded attack. Not in all her time fighting for her life, merely used her conduits and conjured papers. The very idea that she could never even crossed her mind before. Muchless the knowledge of the follow through motions to carry it out. Yet she just did.

Her mother told her once her feathers manifested, that her unique abilities would present themselves in time, their secrets revealed gradually. Her mother taught her to mold and focus her energies, use the powers they all shared but warned her daughter that somethings could not be learned from anyone but her own self. Spoken spells fit this category. So, not only were the cowering civilians shocked when she did but so was Akik herself.

Though no one was more surprised than Anu when threw both arms out to the side, then circled the one holding her bladed plume to point straight ahead at her target. This action summoned a maelstrom of feathers the size and sharpness of knives to gracefully swirl and dance around her like petals. Which then made a beeline to envelope him in a lethal tornado and reduced his legendarily invulnerable body to a bloody heap of barely connected limbs.

"Well then. That was super effective."

Yes, yes it was. In plain view of non-magical London.

*IIST*

Yes, that was a pokemon reference. Both in her attack name, the execution of it and what she says in response. Gen One players know what I mean.

Trying to keep the HP mages distinct from one another as well as nothing like their original selves. Bakaret if far from an easily manipulated pawn; he's a passive aggressive timebomb as stated by his own father. Xaphia isn't a sheltered chatterbox; he's a silent shoot first ask questions if you're still alive assassin to be. Akik has no issue solving her problems with violence as well as her brain...and cursing like a sailor. Roumpini, newly born, is savagery and instinct wrapped in a deceptively adorable package. Manestien is manipulative and cunning on a far grander scale; magic isn't the only way to get people to do what you want.

The magical world is super fucked.

If the description of The Silverlight reminds some of you guys of anything, it totally should. A neat coincidence I noticed about my representations of the HP kids I decided to play up to the fullest here with Manestien's alterego. Each of the child chaos mages has a gemstone corresponding to their name meaning on their foreheads that's actually apart of their bodies.. Except for Xaphia whose eyes are literally sapphires.

BELIEVE IN STEVEN!

Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Sirensoundwave out!


	11. One Spark to Start a Fire

Important realizations are made. Some by one with ties to more than one side. Another point of view gets introduced. Also, my special kind of fluff with a creepy candy coating occurs. To varying degrees of horror for those who bear witness to it.

Let's go!

*IIHST*

Confound it all. This would be far more difficult than he first anticipated.

Dumbledore observed how attentive Ro-Xaphia seemed to be to Bakaret. A sort of odd codependency where the child with the emerald upon his brow would shrink away from the order members into the embrace of the tense boy with jewel eyes. Who in turn would block out the adults in favor of gently soothing him. At the moment, the would be Boy Who Lived was curled against the former Weasley like a cat on a navy blue Queen Anne chase the headmaster had never seen in Grimmauld Place before. The pair nestled under a black blanket decorated like the night sky in stunning detail. It might be cute if not for the intense expression the upright boy wore as he stroked his "cousin's" lax face.

While trying to humor the boys in hopes of gaining their cooperation the Supreme Mugwump learned a fair deal about how they had been raised. That they believed themselves cousins. In a family where incestuous relations were par for the course. As it turns out their so called parents were cousins as well. Xaphia being one to claim three as his parents.

The practice of keeping things all in the family as it were wasn't unheard of in the Wizarding world. Though it was primarily practiced by those more inclined to the Dark Arts. And the occasionally desperate Light family wishing to insure blood purity if a suitable spouse could not be found from another strong line at the time. Dumbledore championed the acceptance of muggle borns and half bloods not only out of respect for the fact magic had chosen to manifest in them for reasons society may not yet understand. But also due to his own theory regarding inbreeding, the sharp rise in squib births and the shrinking family size in recent generations. A theory the MoM promptly disregarded as further evidence of his advanced age showing.

That said, one would have to be blind, deaf and dumb to miss the close bond these boys before him shared. It radiated off them like a beacon. Possible family issue aside, they were far too young for such a level of intimacy! Far too young to truly understand love much have such feelings for anyone.

"Ret is sleeping. Go away."

The child neither paused nor looked up to address him. Instead he spoke in the same cold monotone practically daring the wizard to object. How unnerving such intense darkness rolled off him in waves. Albus could feel the pressure pushing him away from the pair. This was the Savior's, er, match did they call it? How could the offspring of one of the staunchest Light families have an aura that made even Alastor flinch? Ah well, Bakaret did appear more relaxed than any time he had witnessed in the last 10 days. Best leave them be then. Rest would be needed.

That and Albus had a pretty good idea pressing his luck right now might result in losing his head.

When he first became aware of his surroundings, Xaphia immediately knew something was off.

Firstly, he could feel Bakaret which wasn't a problem in and of itself. That it was as if the smaller boy were swathed in a thick layer of...something intangible and frustrating was though. It muted his presence, made him seem so far away even though he could easily reach out and run his hands through ebony locks Rapunzel would be jealous of.

The second thing made the first much more alarming. That the energies he did feel were so foreign. Foreign and wrong as if something like his own had been twisted,folded in on itself, then tamped down until existing as a mere fraction of it's self. This must be a shadow reality, Cha had warned him going to them can be odd since they don't follow the same rules. Mama had been ill for long time after she was drawn to that burnt out house where she first found him. Ba said she was just overwhelmed by the difference in affinities.

Third he was literally blind as a deaf bat right now. Of course bats were able to see around them just fine. Echo location just gave them the complete picture of their world. At the moment all he could perceive was his immediate surroundings and nothing more. Whatever made Bakaret feel so far away also kept him from sensing anything beyond this decrepit house. Not even his Sight worked- the lines of the future appeared knotted up in a gigantic mess instead of a smooth series of ever branching possibilities.

To say the young dark mage was angry about that would be to liken pop caps to C4.

When he'd spoken to Bakaret about it, he told him his Sight was non existent as well. That his powers as a whole were as weak as when his mama Sylphine first began training him to control his voice.

Granted the two of them could still easily waste these stick waving peons with a spoken spell. Witches and wizard's seemed limited to expending their magics in either short focused bursts; through long, tedious concoctions and/or series of complicated rituals that appeared way more effort than they were worth. Were Ret to really keen, their own magic would cause them to combust before they could reach their twigs. Xaphia himself still had the ability tear out their souls with his yoyos. It just didn't seem practical until they knew more about their situation. No matter how much fun it might be.

What a pain the ass.

Speaking of pains in the ass. The ancient one who brought them to this backwater (whom he just told to fuck off) seemed obsessed with his dear cousin. In fact they all did to some degree; something about a dark lord with an absurd name. The redhead really hadn't been listening to him prattle on. Instead his attention focused solely on the other boy's distress at the mere sound of the goat's voice. Even though Ret hid it well from these people, he couldn't hide it from him. It agitated Xaphia to no end every time he referred to Bakaret as Harry or 'my boy' too. He wasn't that dime store Merlin's anything. Or this Harry kid.

The only reason he hadn't turned them into confetti upon arrival was because Ret asked him not to. Bakaret belonged to HIM. And the redhead was well known among chaos mages as a possessive little shit. These idiots would get the memo soon.

For now enjoying having him close and relaxed would be enough.

*IIHST*

Meanwhile a certain Potions Master was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Severus Snape had come to a most unnerving conclusion when checking on Lucius at Cissa's request. The Lord Malfoy had sequestered himself in his study and drunk himself into a stupor for days. When he began throwing furniture and his wife could not force the doors open, she fire called him in a panic.

Lucius rambled on like a lunatic about past mistakes and a dreadful future coming to pass. While Severus long suspected there was something more to Narcissa's miscarriage, the existence of the child now named Manestein all but confirmed it. After failing to drown his sorrows in alcohol, his good friend had finally admitted to his actions.

"Severus that creature The Dark Lord has summoned is far more powerful than it let's on. What it made that Longbottom boy into is not natural! And it has the same feeling as Loki." the blonde slurred.

"What are you on about? How much firewhiskey have you had man?"

"He came to me when I killed my boy demanding his body. Made it so we could never have another heir. Don't you see!? Loki made Draco a demon too! That's what he meant by live again! Dear Merlin my poor boy! This isn't what I wanted! He was supposed to be free from that monster's grip not become one! What have I done?! WHAT HAVE I-!?"

Lucius didn't hear the 'Stupefy' called out over his own hysterics. He dropped like a downed bludger. Much the same way Severus' heart bottomed out in his stomach. Oh this...this was NOT good. Now it made sense. The sense of deja vu he felt while the lost Potter brat showed them that series of memories. Not a coincidence by any means- the dark fae which presented itself as Klarion to their master had to be the one that child had called papa. His true form that of the blue, muscular, fanged polar opposite of the short, golden eyed doll like woman the child with Lily's verdant irises called mama.

Did it know? Was it aware he was a spy and simply not care? Did it know of the other son being in Dumbledore's care? What was it waiting for; what would it do?

"In order: Yes. Yeah, you suck as a spy. The faceless wonder is so self assured he hasn't noticed he's got zero control of me so no surprise he hasn't sussed you out. I knew my first born was here _somewhere, _thanks for the update. Though not quite sure how I feel about Xaphia being with him too. Being at 100% before storming the castle is ideal. And you'll find out the hard way if you keep calling me an it in your head greasy."

Merlin's balls. Still in his adolescent guise the dark fae Klarion stood behind him arms crossed. Possibly angry.

"Not possibly, extremely. See because of two bumbling, delusional old men? Your. World. Will. BURN. Those names on your magic genealogy chart? Some of them are just as dark as me. Some are the flipside. All are going to be super pissed to learn what happened. I know for a fact that whatever is keeping me trapped here and so damn **weak** is also keeping them out but it's only a matter of time before my sweet butterfly amasses an army capable of smashing through that barrier. That doll like woman can be far more terrifying than me when our son is involved so imagine how she'll feel once she meets her newest baby Roumpini. It's going to suck. For you all. I'm gonna laugh my ass off."

Castor found himself in the position of overprotective father too soon for his tastes. Though maturity among their kind was decided by development and mastery of one's conduit, Chaos Mages counted their actual age in star cycles, the average period between a cloud of gas becoming a fusion reactor and eventually collapsing on itself violently. He didn't know Syl existed until after his first supernova. Then only met her after 3 more. Neither boy had even gotten to their first red giant burn out yet-

"What do you want from me then?"

Oh right the peon.

"Finally someone who truly embodies the qualities of his house. You, my good snake, are now officially my personal butt monkey. You answer to me above all else." The not-child's face split ear to ear with a disturbing grin. All fangs and promises of unpleasant things to come.

"I'm already a double agent. I can't just-" Severus tried to protest. The wizard had never heard such a term but the inferred meaning quite clear. However crude.

"Sounds like a 'your problem' type deal. Guess you're gonna have to ask yourself, who am I more afraid of? A Gandalf knock off who couldn't keep track of the baby he had such grandiose plans for? The noseless poser who went full tilt emo diva and somehow got his ass whooped by said baby? Or someone who is literally darkness incarnate?"

Darkness incarnate. Yes, exactly what he felt in the presence of the youngest Weasley male. Exactly what stood before him right now. Voldemort had nothing on this...

*IIHST*

Willinda Funedove, age 26, never really 'got' the British magical world though she strived to do so. Being born and raised in Melbourne she grew up in a world where the concept of keeping such secrets seemed a waste of energy and kinda counterproductive. She attended public schooling which accommodated both the magical and non. The concept of two distinct social systems sorta lost favor in the early days of the Australian colonization. Why?

The early days consisted partially of Britannia shipping her 'riff raff' to the newly discovered and barely habitable land. Then once valuable resources were discovered far more settlers of the voluntary variety arrived. Regardless of how they got there the fact that the outback (and forests and coasts...and geography in general) of Australia was actively trying to murder these newcomers became super obvious super quick. Because humans are often dicks advantage was taken of the natives who tried to be helpful. After a great deal of suffering the magical community of this new country realized something that should have been apparent from the jump- those who abandoned the notions of family purity, blood status and "muggles are dirt" tended to live longer and produce children more adapted to survive the battle royale of man v nature. To such a degree no one used the terms at all. You were either magical or nonmagical.

Things weren't exactly all kumbaya and what not but like most of Britannia's (and Europe's) former colonies there existed a greater degree of acceptance born of a need for survival and learning that people are people and we're all in this together whether we like it or not. As a result witches and wizards were more of a subset than distinctly different population. Willinda would know, such topics being the focus of her cultural anthropology dissertation .she herself having an aboriginal father and a mother of dutch descent. Ink still drying on her doctorate, Dr. Fundove set out to see what could be done to help the old world come out of the stone age.

With so far depressing results.

Issue one: she had to stay in a nonmagical apartment . A concept which baffled her far more than it should have given she knew what she was getting into. Her computer and such would work just fine but without electricity Willinda was still SOL. Which led to...

Issue two: it took a bit of getting used to hiding her witch status from nonmagicals, schooling herself in not flinching when hearing such archiac terms as muggle, muggle born, halfblood and pureblood in even professional conversation. The situation was exacerbated by the fact that the magical areas of London were warded from nonmagicals and inexplicably spaced out. Naturally the Havendashery Hall she would be working with was nowhere near the area she was renting a flat. A problem that also correlated with...

Issue three: Havendashery Hall of International Wizarding Studies happened to be widely regarded as an Institute of low credibility in it's homeland despite being the go to avenue by which non-nationals entered it. As such were any persons associated with it. An embarrassing incident involving her paperwork at the Ministry of Magic drove that home. As soon as she mentioned her grant from H2 all her credentials were called into question. What should have been a hour visit tops stretched into 4 during which she had to prove her identity and nationality repeatedly. The only positive of the farce being learning via lineage screening ritual that she belonged distantly to a "respectable family line" thought to have died out in the 1800's. Gringotts being quite eager to contact her regarding the considerable interest the originally modest vault had accrued. It seriously irked her that that one piece of random information shut the whole circus down and sent her on her merry way with pleasant, if forced, smiles and platitudes.

Blood status ruled everything!

She got odd stares on her trips to magical areas because she wasn't wearing robes. She didn't do dresses; as far as Willinda was concerned a witch's robe was at best a Halloween get up and at worst an ugly dress. Still for official business she would need the proper attire to be taken seriously. Ugh.

A worker assumed she was a poor muggle family member who got lost when she saw her fumbling with her Galaxy phone as she entered a robe shop called Malkin's. The denim jacket and jumper not helping.

"That contraption isn't gonna work in here lassy. Didn't they tell ya that?" the woman turned up her nose at the prospect of even speaking to the young woman.

"My phone works fine Ma'am. Just checking off my to do list and adding a few more things." She said offhandedly while typing.

To the elder witch's amazement, the device suddenly displayed a picture of a gorgeous parrot and started blaring the chicken dance tune. Her friend Akala on the other end.

"OH MY GOD WILL ARE YOU OKAY?!"

"Whoa! Tone it down I'm fine La! Why wouldn't I be?" She held the phone at arm's length to preserve her hearing.

"WHAT?! How do you NOT know?! You're at ground zero! There's some ugly troll motherfucker duking it out with a barefoot girl in Metro London! You gave us all a heart attack when no one could reach you!" Akala shrieked.

Troll...Metro London...dafuq?!

"Hold on!"

Wilinda quickly opened her BBC world news app's live stream and couldn't believe it. Sure enough a lovely young girl with a major frizz problem came into obvious smart phone focus. A split second later she blurred like an anime fighter and that same spot was now occupied by an actual troll dressed like He-Man. In that same instant the camera jostled and screaming could be heard. When the ireporter steadied, the lens had been cracked and the area as far as it panned showed nothing but rubble. The sound of clashing metal and more rumbling off screen.

Holy shit. This was live and no one around her had a clue! By her estimates, this was happening really wards close by... were the wards around magical London that heavily reinforced?! Dr. Funedove knew cell service would be hit or miss due to having to rely on satellites not towers for signal; the UK being behind in getting technology to work with magic for obvious reasons. Other patrons began crowding her to catch a glimpse of what shocked her so. Marveling at the muggle device. God she hated that word!

We repeat London is under attack by some hostile force! Civilians are urged to take shelter IMMEDIATELY! Authorities are on scene-

Swan Song Guillotine!

All sound in the video ceased. Even the news anchor remained silent while the screen whited. Then came shouts of horror.

It appears creature has been killed by this mysterious young woman! Let us hope she has peaceable intentions.

POP!

A different person's Periscope feed appeared in the screen inset as a puff of smoke swallowed the young woman...leaving a little girl in her place.

Alrighty then.

*IIHST*

Yeah. I may keep up with Dr. Funedove and Akala since they represent an outside view of the bass ackwardness of the British Wizarding Society. Had fun writing her too. FYI, Akala means parrot in the language of at least one indigenous Australian group. Hence her profile pic. The song is just cuz ;P

The Xaphia/Bakaret pairing is the only official one for the HP chaos mages. Once again it's Klarion/Castor's internal musing that give a little insight though Dumbles touched on it too. That they found their match at such a young age is kinda odd. And mildly disturbing. But Albus worrying about relation is pointless since there isn't a genuine one from reality to reality or sometimes within one. The fact that Bakaret's father even hearing of Sylphine didn't happen until he had seen the his first go supernova shows this. This is millions of years people. Another story in the Reality of Chaos series even mentions them still being quite young when they do meet. Even though he knows the two are soulmates Cas is just worried cuz he remembers what he was like at Xaphia's age. A loosely wrapped bag of crazy. Er, a _looser_ wrapped bag of _possessive_ crazy.

And yes I am intentionally making the way time passes for mages and between realities vague and strange.

So, love it? Hate it? No strong feelings either way? Reviews are like hugs! Sirensoundwave out.


	12. Set to Blow

Set to Blow

Small note/rant:

I am that rare individual who often comes across then enjoys a fandom through fanworks first but may never really get into the source material that deeply (I read one book, Goblet of Fire; don't laugh at me!).

As such, it has occurred to me I may come across as hateful to the HP universe with this fic. To that I say anyone who wastes time researching a subject just to talk shit about it and poke holes in it's logic needs to have their head checked. Unless it's to confirm or deny something academically or legally.

Even in a world where magic exists, the HP universe requires a bit of "because magic" reasoning to make sense. JK sets up this fantastical world (which was no small feat) where the impossible happens every day; we muggles just can't see it. Fair enough, it is a work whose demographic is between 'has a good handle on chapter books' to 'young adult.' Though this creates a problem that's super hard to ignore as the series progresses/the reader matures : How in blue hell has the wizarding world managed to stay hidden?! This is story is not (for the most part) me dumping on on the fandom, it's a valid goddamn question even some super fans have asked. Cuz this is the age of fanfiction, fan theory and otherwise building upon and trying to understand the works we love.

Okay the way this works is kids get shipped off to Hogwarts at the ripe age of 11. This is fine. The fact that the wizarding world isn't 100% isolated is where crap begins to fall apart for me.

Magic may or may not be really inherited no matter how badly Purists in the HP world try to claim so. It is random as fuck and having wizarding parents only makes you more likely but not guaranteed to be one yourself. I believe the whole more inbreeding = more squibs thing might be mentioned in the books but it doesn't explain why there have always been squibs. Nor does it account for the fact that muggleborns exist. Nor how individual power is so unevenly distributed. Purebloods with supposed millennia worth of power in their blood get the shit kicked out of them by muggleborns and half bloods in the final battle (and quite a few times before that). You can argue the whole good triumphing over evil trope here if you want. Then explain Voldemort. I'm totally serious. By his own logic (and the greater majority of magical Britain no matter how much they would like to deny it), nearly all of his followers should be more powerful than him no matter what. Malfoy and Lestrange should be running the show. And if magic truly is inherited, it's derp stupid to exclude muggles from the mating pool when the existence of magic would then be a recessive gene in order for so called muggle borns to exist.

With that said, there is no way you can convince me one of the following has never happened.

Muggleborn's family freaks out. Either due to moral/religious issues or HOLY FUCK MAGIC IS REAL?! the child is not allowed to go. It could even be as simple as not wanting to toss their kid into a world they know nothing about with only total strangers to mind them. Or the child refuses.

Muggleborn or Halfblood does such a piss poor job they either drop out or fail out. At some point during or after this downward spiral they expose themselves publicly. Purposely or not. Or by the same token one drops or freaks out once they realize they have to give up one world or the other.

The family does the exposing; someone who knew a person that just vanished as a child starts to wonder; The government starts to wonder about children whose entire record (school, health, social, etc) goes poof or has a 7 year gap in it.

Spells, wards, etc meant to hide shit fail. We know for a fact that it is possible to do these things wrong or even have them wear off.

Magic and tech don't mix. Some people who fuck up electronics by being near them would get noticed.

There's tons of other but these main ones really stand out to me. Given how small the population is, it's really hard to argue that Obliviators would be able to handle all of these potential leaks. Especially since accidental magic is established as a thing. The purpose of schooling is to refine a set of properties one is born with. I don't need to learn karate to be able to do serious damage with my hands and feet under the right circumstances (such as startling the shit out of me). It's also possible to argue in this world that muggles with an high degree of natural talent for pretty much anything are semi magical.

I could go on forever. I think the way the UK magicals do things versus the rest of the world in this fic is pretty easy to justify considering we hear so little about other magical communities. To be fair much of what is known about other cultures comes from Pottermore. Which doesn't count as canon. I'm sorry, it doesn't. The books are canon.

I will also concede that by the time Potter really caught on on my side of the pond (after the first movie; my first year of highschool) several modern tech advancements had occurred. Namely the Internet really took off. I didn't know anyone my age who didn't have either a blackberry, a home computer, laptop or some combination. I am part of the first generation that would genuinely flip out if our access to technology went bye-bye overnight. Our school server went down once. The teachers were fine with it. We however did not know what to do without internet access to do research, share files, print, use sparknotes . com or goof off. I hadn't actually read a school required novel since 6th grade. People talk about how much time kids spend on electronic devices becoming a recent problem; it's not. It's just that those who started that trend have made it more apparent with better features as they grew older.

This is the lens through which a lot of HP fics get filtered.

Willinda isn't a one off. She is one way the world works outside of Britain. This chapter shows another by addressing several of the above issues.

Let's do this!

*IIHST*

"PHSSSSSTB!" Hacking and coughing filled the office of one Darrell Marshall, a Chief Intelligence Officer at the Los Angeles CA branch of the Federal Bureau of Magical Affairs, as some of his favorite mint mocha blend ended up spraying all over his desktop PC upon watching the feed of a magical smackdown across the globe. "One of those backwards nuts in England looks to have snapped!"

He quickly reassessed his opinion of the situation when he realized neither had a wand but instead magical weapons. The only indication of spoken spell casting occurred at the very end of the video.

While her opponent appeared to be some sort of creature, the frizzy haired girl had to be some sort of witch. Just not a wand waver, slang for magic users of the old world. All he could come up with was some variation of the Surudoji* tournament he attended in Japan while on vacation years ago. Though the ancient combat style of scholars turned competitive sport involved calligraphy brushes not feathers the use of paper seemed similar. No ink symbols flying about either but, semantics.

Anyway this issue didn't get better. His boss had been advocating for forced integration of the Third Tier wand wavers into the 21st century. Director Langley's young wife came from Ireland stowing away on a boat and seeking asylum as a 23 year old girl; her family wanting to use her womb as a bargaining chip in a power struggle just after Voldemort's fall (people were afraid of that name?). The poor woman lived a sheltered life having never seen a tv, a non magical light fixture, hell even a car. At the time Langley had been leading a team investigating the illegal trafficking of magical creatures through Louisiana when he found her cowering in a crate of unicorn hides. After her story filtered through the spelled digital lie detector as true ("the poor girl thought we were gonna drug her!" one squad member balked), he rushed her amnesty papers through and she was taken in by his grandmother to acclimate her to American life. Things went smoothly after that. Well as smoothly as it could go trying to teach a pampered adult noble things most of us have a handle on by age 12.

Of course the O'Brillerbibs weren't gonna let their cash cow go without a fuss. They figured an old muggle woman (no wand) and her ranch hands would be easy pickings. All their spying confirmed the old biddy would be without wizarding backup- Brigit didn't count as far as they were concerned. So, in Deatheater masks, 3 male members apparated to the boonies outside Austin under cover of darkness. Unfortunately they were derp stupid enough to bring wands to an all out gun fight. Because magic or not, this ranch was in fucking TEXAS. By the time local police arrived (alerted by an unauthorized translocation detected on private property), Meemaw Langley had blown a hole clean through the chest of Brigit's elder brother, her father's wand hand had been blasted off and her uncle was cowering at the Remington barrel between his eyes.

Yeah...a protego spell is not fast enough to stop a 12 gauge. No spoken one is. Especially if held by a 96 year old woman in a housecoat angry that they showed up during her shows. Who was also, surprise, a witch with a sharpshooter title. Registering them as 'sitting ducks the second they whipped out those overgrown toothpicks.' The FBMA sent back only one, in a pine box. The MoM was informed the other two would follow in about 10-25 years. Or when they were in need of their own caskets. Whichever occurred first. Terrorism charges did not qualify them to be extradited to the Emerald Isle.

No further kidnapping attempts were made.

As a result of the UK tactic of sticking their heads in the sand regarding any matters not under their control, they had isolated themselves to mostly interactions with other nations still stuck in the olden days. Making them Third Tier countries, those who hid from and looked down on non magicals. But even that was a grey area as countries like France and Spain began to shift into the Second Tier category of partial integration as they dealt more and more with their nation's regular government.

Sure foreigners from First Tier (fully integrated countries) visited but the issue of having to import anything modern for it to be usable was both expensive and illegal if they wanted to live there full time. Statutes to preserve their little bubble world kept them safe from progress by literally destroying it as it tried to take root. The only way around it would be to have immense magical power to counter the wards or be granted special permission by the government. Neither option was usually worth the effort. Most of the world had taken the 'fuck it' approach to dealing with them.

This latest incident though proved they didn't even have a handle on inhouse matters. Because they were purposely kept ignorant of magic, Marshall could tell more civilians panicked and died because of aimless running than would have were that say Boston or any city in any First tier nation. Or Second tier one really . Only Third tiers would react this way.

Scrubbing his face, Marshall yawned and stared at his desk clock reading 4:15am. He hadn't gone home due to looming deadlines for various projects he supervised. He drove to the office the day before and popping home for a shower wasn't good enough an excuse for leaving it in the parking deck. At least not good enough for him to file the forms necessary to not have it towed in his opinion. Whatever, physical translocation never sat well with him anyway. A simple snap of the fingers and he'd be daisy fresh.

Not that he could sneak back into his office and pretend to have never left if he did teleport out for a shower. Unlike across the pond, apparition as they called it happened to be strictly regulated in every First Tier nation. Every building, private or public had designated translocation arrival points. Even then some points required you to be keyed into it's design to access. You know to keep random weirdos from popping in and out of your house or other restricted areas at will. Quite handy in reducing instances of people screwing up and being embedded in a wall, showing up in the wrong location, or causing panic when they arrive at the right one. Hell open areas like parks had them too. And on the off chance you managed to override such wards and charms, law enforcement would be on your ass like white on rice almost instantly. At least the UK magicals did have to be licensed too.

"So, what now?

*IIHST*

Watching the scene unfold caused Manestien to lose focus enough for his Silverlight guise to fade away as he laughed hysterically. He was alone anyways.

"For someone who doesn't like to kick up a fuss, that girl can sure make an entrance." Manestein cackled kicking his legs.

This was certainly true. Akik didn't like to start things...but for damn sure would end them if necessary. Her introverted nature lead to Uncle Thor's proclamation that "only a battle proven mighty warrior would have her hand as match". Well that and being female. All that prevented him and Bakaret from the same fate were Bakaret and Xaphia matching so early and his Father Sagittarius promising to ram an arrow so far up Thor's ass the Asgardian would cut his lips on it.

Aunt Sylphine also kinda tried to claw his eyes out when Uncle Thunderbutt oh so not subtly hinted her precious emerald was ergi... by flat out stating it. He grew up having the same insults whispered about him as his Papa did. To be referred to as literally not fit to be called a man didn't bother him at all. To know that he, a mere child, could probably cut down the best warriors Asgard had to offer with his rings (with them having no clue what the hell just happened) was good enough for him. Auntie on the other hand had to be held back by Uncle Castor as his match strained in his arms. His expression that of a man trying to decide if it was worth the effort.

Wonder if Aunt Psyphire knows yet?

*IIHST*

Roumpini is very pleased. Not about some news broadcast though.

His papa has told him stories of his mama, of his big brother. Shown him memories and images of their family and he cannot wait to meet them. His papa tells him his brother is already here but mama is prevented from coming by the same force that prevents them from leaving. That it isn't safe to meet Bakaret just yet. But he says so with a smile so its okay; if papa isn't worried it's okay. It means he has time to work on his powers and show he is a good boy when she comes. That he is strong when he can meet him.

He likes his toys. They are very fun and very useful for practice. He learns a lot from them.

For instance mortals are stupidly fragile. One swipe of his shadows and they fall to pieces. If he blunts them to more resemble tentacles, not blades, they fly across the room. Hit a wall or the floor too hard and their bones break. And they stop working altogether if a fall from a window is too high off the ground.

Poo.

Still he learned from trial and error so that was good. Mortals could heal and be stronger afterwards...or heal and still stay kinda broken. So the simple solution is to keep them from breaking. Make them strong enough to heal up right if they do break. And that's where his garden came in. Plant life seemed to love him. The very life force of it reaching out to caress him, begging to be molded to his whim. Why not combine the two?

The ruby child didn't even have to ask for help to make his special place- he just knew how. A rose tinted realm filled with all sorts of flowers and plants of his own design

. Leaning against his favorite the tree made of a sparkling red crystalline substance overlooking a sanguine lake where he could relax. A quiet place that noseless freak and his lackies couldn't enter unless he wanted. And he certainly didn't.

"You're almost ready." he giggled tapping the largest pod hanging from the tree inches off the ground. It shuddered in response.

*IIHST*

Yeesh...do we really wanna know what's in that thing

No, not really. As for how did or he even had time to do all that, the answer is forthcoming. And ridiculously straightforward n_n

Okay now we know how the US of A works in this version of the HP world. And that it's still stupid to mess with Texas. Or at least bring a gun not a stick.

Next up, if Dumbledore got his idea from a book it's reasonable to assume Voldie did too. So where did it (or they) come from? Just as pressing how does snake face have a body without using Harry for the ritual?

*fighting technique/sport involving the use of calligraphy and paper as weapons. The characters I used for it are _surudo _(sharp weapon) and _ji _(letter, character).

**Ergi is an old norse word that means "unmanliness". Argr means unmanly but I more commonly see ergi used in fanfics.

Love it? Hate it? Let me know. Reviews are like hugs! Sirensoundwave out!


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